


GLORY

by ReadingStuffNow



Series: Harry Potter Books [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, goblet of fire harry potter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/M, Gen, James Potter Lives, Sirius Black Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:53:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 49,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22670527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReadingStuffNow/pseuds/ReadingStuffNow
Summary: Theodosia Marx-Black was abandoned by her father. He didn't want her and that was something that broke her, even if she wouldn't admit it. After four years at Hogwarts, discriminated against for being a Slytherin and written off as the famous daughter of Sirius Black— part of the greatest quartet of Aurors in existence, she's done. Done with being second best.So, she does something drastic and probably dumb. She enters herself in the Triwizard Tournament. Who knew it would force everything out into the light.
Relationships: George Weasley/OC
Series: Harry Potter Books [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1630897
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	1. One

**_THEO_ **

**~**

**THEODOSIA MARX DIDN'T SEEM** to givea _shit_ about most things. She didn't care about how she looked, who said what about her, whether or not some dumb boy liked her. She didn't care if _The_ Harry Potter was only a table away from her three meals a day. And she sure as hell didn't care about grades.

Still, she somehow rarely, if ever got detention or lost points for Slytherin. Although many teachers had their suspicions, most couldn't say anything bad she had actually done, as they didn't have proof. She got good marks seemingly easily, and if she got a bad grade, she probably did it to 'stick it to the man' or the 'patriarchy' or something she didn't really know much about, but used to blow things off nonetheless, with a convincing argument and a loud voice. And although she insisted she did not have any _'friends',_ she did have _people_ in her life. As for _The_ Harry Potter, she hated _him_ more than Snape seemed to hate shampoo.

Thankfully, Potter had been oblivious to her existence up until the end of last year, when she made a _mistake_. But now, with a head of newly dyed blonde hair and a two-sizes-too-big leather jacket, she was preparing to return to Hogwarts for her _fifth_ time. Who knew this one would _suck_ more than most.

__

"Theo!" A voice shouted over the chaos of students diving into carriages, the last person I wanted to see pushing through towards me. I tensed, tossing my satchel inside the carriage I had claimed and standing in the doorway, blocking the boy from entering. "Theodosia _, mate,_ how was your summer? How was America? _How's your mum?_ Did you go to the Quidditch World Cup? Did you hear about the Death Eat— "

I raised a eyebrow, momentarily stopping his word—vomit. Not bothered in the slightest by my obvious annoyance, Harry looked me over, raising an eyebrow at the leather shrugged on over my uniform, robe in my trunk long forgotten. "New jacket?"

I looked at the younger —even if it was by only one and a half years— boy with a roll of my eyes. Despite being a nearly-sixteen-year-old, I had been forced to give up some of my more prized possessions this summer when my mother found them 'cleaning', my treasured denim jacket included. Instead, I had some old leather one I found in the attic (that I wore almost everywhere now, even if it stunk of cigarettes and firewhiskey). It was probably from one of my mother's _many_ old flames —long forgotten when she became a _prude—_ that somehow survived years of moving.

Turning away from the Fourth Year who was still rambling, I clambered inside of my carriage, turning only to close the door in his face. Undeterred, the Potter boy shouted a ' _see you later, cousin_ ' for the whole world to hear, the sound of footsteps confirming his retreat. Sighing, I sat back in the carriage, wedged between the door and a too-tall Slytherin Beater, my Quidditch counterpart, _Cassius Malfoy._

Across from me were two more Slytherins— Marcus Flint and Adrian Pucey —who I found tolerable, _most of the time_. The four of us had played Quidditch together since Second Year and spent summer break together two years ago for Quidditch Camp, one of the only things sponsored by the Potter's that I attended, since it gave me a chance to stay in the UK for the majority of summer. Flint was in his final year, and Adrian, a Chaser just like Flint, was in my year, same as Cassius, though the blonde had already turned sixteen, a few weeks before I do, leaving Adrian the youngest.

I sighed, already bored as I thought of _grades_ and _homework_ and _grades_ and _homework_ and—

"Remember first year? Before _Horrible Harry_ and _Munchkin Malfoy_ and all that _crap_? When it was just getting caught sneaking onto the Quidditch Pitch and Snape's dictatorship we had to worry about?"

"I remember _you_ sneaking onto the Pitch and Snape making the Prefects lock you in your dorm until breakfast every morning." Adrian snarked jokingly, faking a snore in an attempt to recreate my sleeping.

"That sounds just like her!" Cassius snorted, throwing his head back as Adrian's snores grew louder.

"I don't snore!"

Adrian paused in his impression of me, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe we should ask my sister, she complains about it enough— "

"Kia is a filthy liar—"

"Please, _Doe_ , you've slept through enough meals for all of Hogwarts to know your snores by now."

I glanced towards the usually silent Flint for support, fighting a smile. "Come on, Marcus, get my back here,"

"Don't ask Flint to lie for you—"

"Doe," Flint started, sitting up a bit, "You snore like a sloth mixed with an elephant."

As I scoffed, I couldn't help but laugh a little. Just a little. It wasn't like any of us to really _hang out_ or _joke around. Especially_ not Marcus. He had so much shit going on at home that it was a shock he even knew how to smile any more. When we were at school or practice, it was all business, at least for them. There were eyes everywhere, and immaturity was something most couldn't afford anymore.

Most of the time we spoke, it was about Quidditch, or school, or something stupid some idiot did. But, the beginning of the year carriage ride was always a fun time. For the four of us, we hated the summer holiday and winter break. It meant going _home_ , and dealing with whatever shitty life awaited us. Death Eaters, yelling, drinking, gala's, fighting, punishments— it was always this whirlwind of chaos for months, until we could go back to Hogwarts.

This break, I was feeling particularly _light_. A small smile found it's way back onto my face, and I felt . . . _calm_. I had left home —far away in America— and my mother a few days ago, and had spent it traveling by No-Maj and Magical transportation, arriving the night before. I was a bit tired, but it was because of the usual jet-lag, not from nightmares for once. Even Potter's annoyance and my apparent snoring didn't put me in a bad mood.

It was weird, to say the least. I had spent most of my summer worrying about what Potter would do when school commenced, after last year's travesty at the train station. But, it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. And now, I was . . . well, I wasn't _home_ , because Hogwarts could suck. But I was a fifth year now, a _Prefect_ somehow. _Although that last part pissed me off greatly._ And in two years, I would be away from my mother and prejudiced _Gyrffin-dorks_.

I was cut short of my pondering when the carriage arrived at Hogwarts. With an anxious grin, I opened the door, stepping out first. My grin turned into wide smile but I quickly controlled myself and begun to walk inside, face blank, like most of the other _mature_ Slytherins who knew better than to act like a blundering buffoon.

I had made it inside, past the watchful eye of McGonagall, and into the Great Hall with ease. She didn't even stop me once, whereas last year she confiscated my belongings for two days and confiscated all of my _tools_ before the feast began. The only reason I wasn't suspended was because I used the 'you let me go blind for a while' card, which I knew wouldn't work for much longer. It was a long story, but basically, second year—

" _Oi!_ Black, you match?" A loud voice called from across the Great Hall, holding up a deck of _Exploding Snap_ cards. I stuck my tongue out at the Hufflepuff, the single non-Slytherin I dared assort with. Just because I got special treatment, for being Sirius Black's daughter, didn't mean I would abandon my House.

Still, after years of being my look-out and sneaking me _supplies_ , it was hard to hate Cedric Diggory. I took the long way to my table, so I could walk past Hufflepuff. As casually as I could, I shrugged off my jacket— with _extreme_ care — and handed it to Cedric.

"Always a pleasure, Digg." I murmured, slowly walking towards my seat, mindful of the Staff table.

The tall teen chuckled, my jacket on his lap as he turned to some Hufflepuff to play until the feast started, most likely aware of the dung bombs hidden inside of it, though he said nothing. I slid into my seat, pulling my wrinkled robe on. I didn't trust anyone or anything with my satchel, not even invisible magic forces.

It housed my most _important_ items, all necessary for a tolerable day at Hogwarts. Quills, ink, and extra paper hid the random insanity that filled my bag that I deemed important. _Plus_ , something _incredibly_ valuable I stole from Filch's office with the Weasley Twins when we were younger. _The Marauder's Map_.

__

After a long feast filled with boredom, and then the announcement of something Cassius told me about in a letter months ago— _The Tri-Wizard Tournament_ -and a bucket's worth of food, I was spent. Nothing like eating until you almost puked to lull a gal to sleep.

I always slept better in the Slytherin Dorms. It was easy to see why —Hogwarts wasn't in America, it wasn't with my mother, and our Dorms weren't surrounded by people who automatically assumed who I was or who I should be, for the most part at least. Plus, the beds felt like satin and silk had a baby with a cloud. That was always nice.

I slumped my way to the Common Room with a series of yawns, leading the First Year Students with Flint at my side. Neither of us was big on talking with pompous little kids, so for the most part, only excited whispering and my yawns filled our walk.

When we got there, I pulled up my sleeve to read the password I had previously scrawled on my arm, squinting at the now smudged script. "Uh, _Salazar_ , er, yeah."

Sure enough, the door opened with a groan, giving me the opportunity to walk in first. "Uh, boys follow Flint, girls with me."

Without waiting for the group of around ten girls, I began walking up the stairs towards the Dorms. It took nearly ten minutes for all of the girls to figure out their rooms, some complaining instantly about being separate from their friends. I scoffed, informing them to _write letters on why they need to move rooms_ , and assuring that I would pass them along to the _proper authorities_. In reality, I'd probably read them for fun and show my _associates_. Nothing like furious eleven-year-old to lessen the sting of _no Quidditch_.

I had avoided the topic on the ride to Hogwarts, in the Carriage, _and_ during the feast, because I didn't want to deal with arrogance or anger from the people I associated with. It was usually better to be a onlooker when a Slytherin wanted blood, rather than a participant. Things could turn sour quickly.

One time, when Cassius' little brother was taunting Potter on the field during practice, Cassius went to step in, only to get a hex to the face. That prompted Adrian to throw a curse, it to get deflected at me, and a all-out battle of the Quidditch Teams to ensue. I woke up in the infirmary after getting knocked out cold, stuck with half of Gryffindor and a herd of angry Slytherins. By the end of the day, Mr. Malfoy was on the grounds. I had only met him a handful of times, but he used our distant relation to rack up the anger points, saying _three_ of _his_ children had been injured, as though I was his ward or something, due to our distant relation and my pure-blooded status. I ended up stuck between Cassius and Draco while their father paced and ridiculed Dumbledore. It was pretty funny, but after five minutes, I was bored out of my mind.

After that, I kept more to the shadows. I wasn't scared of fighting in the slightest, and when push came to shove I have fought before, but that didn't mean I was looking for trouble, at least I was _trying_ not to anymore.

Not that it seemed to do anything. I stayed out of trouble, or at least didn't get caught, but still I was being punished by Snape. _Prefect_. As though punishing people for doing awesome shit was something I wanted to _ever_ do. When my mother got the letter, I was forced to accept the position, leaving me with virtually no freedom and more responsibilities.

As the last First Year closed her door, I sighed to myself. My sleepiness had faded into anger as I did my _job_ , annoyance filling me quickly. Storming down the stairs and into the Common Room, I flopped down on one of the overly-fancy couches, uniform disheveled, boots probably tracking mud on the green velvet.

I slammed my fist against the side of the couch, cursing as my hand collided with wood. "I would think after four years of doing it, you'd stop smashing your fists into things."

I glared at Adrian Pucey as he sat in the arm chair across from me. "Maybe when people stop making me want to punch them, I'll stop punching couches."

"And windows," He snorted, running a hand through his hair, "You remember when you put your fist through the greenhouse. Sprout nearly passed out at all the sight of all that blood."

"Thanks for the reminder of my stupidity." I flexed my hand, staring at the little white and pink scars of my knuckles, from years of ill-thought angered actions.

"You going to enter the Tournament?"

I glanced up at Adrian, his usually pristine copper hair disheveled, face worried for once. Adrian didn't _get_ frazzled, and if he ever had, he didn't show it. Showing stuff like that was weak, it meant weakness. And weakness would only get you hurt. So, slightly stunned into silence, I kept quiet.

"Doe?" His eyes made me squirm, unused to the odd show of . . . _worry_.

I clicked my tongue, forcing my face back to a blank stare. "Why not? School will be pretty boring without Quidditch. Plus, Mr. Malfoy used his _connections_ with Crouch to get the age lowered to sixteen. What's stopping me?"

"Doe, just . . . _don't_ enter, okay?" Adrian stood, moving to the couch I laid on. Kneeling by my head, he gripped the couch tightly. "My parents were talking. It— just _don't_ , okay?"

I frowned lightly, scoffing. "Are you _worried_ about me, Adrian? I can handle some dumb obstacle course and whatever else Dumbledore puts in my way."

" _Theodosia_ — please." I hesitated. People knew better than to call me by my full name. They usually ended up in the Medical Wing afterwards. "It's dangerous. I can't say why, but if you enter that Tournament, you won't make it out."

Standing from the couch, I brushed past his still-kneeling figure, angrier than before. "I'm stronger and _better_ than anything they can throw at me. I can handle myself, _Pucey_."


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter of GLORY!

_**THEO** _

_**~** _

**SOMETIMES, IT REALLY SUCKS** to be a witch. Now, I know what everyone will say— _what? Magic is the greatest gift in the flipping world, blah, blah, blah_ —yeah, sure, I agree with you on that. Magic itself is _badass_ , no doubt. But, the rest of it, that just _sucks_.

The house-clique's, the deceitful _everything_ , the endless days spent surrounded by people who hate you. Just _being_ a Slytherin earned you glares, _hisses_ , insults. Most people seemed to be convinced that anyone sporting green was a bigoted asshole. And while _some_ bigoted assholes _were_ in Slytherin, there were some in _every_ house— _yes, even Hufflepuff, the loyal freaks._

Growing up was easier and harder. I was in America— _Chicago, New York, Huston, DC._ Growing up, I went all over the US. My mom was always vague about her work, and I knew better than to ask, keeping myself in an ignorant bliss. I went to a _No-Maj_ school, learned to count, sung my _ABC's,_ got into _trouble_ a lot, got punished _a lot_ _more_. I made a friend with an odd No-Maj boy named _Owen_ when I was in nine— in Chicago— and lost touch when I was ten; my mom didn't let me talk to him after we moved. After that, I didn't really _want_ any friends, it was easier than getting attached. Of course, it's hard to keep from forming _any_ connections when you're stuck with the same people 80 percent of the year for four years straight.

Overall, life was fine. I learned how to stay out of trouble, stopped getting punished _as much_ , and I drew. I drew a lot, until I could _draw._ There wasn't a lot to do when I was home; most of the time I knew better than to leave my room. My mother wasn't a good woman, but I learned how to walk the tightrope of her emotions.

But, there was always an issue that my mother couldn't control with her perfect curls and harsh lessons. _My father_.

It always bugged me that I didn't have a _dad_. I had a father, _Sirius,_ who lived somewhere in the UK. But, I didn't have anyone teaching me to ride a broom, or healing my scraped knee. No dad was there to pick me up from school or tuck me in, or take me away or protect me from my mother. Instead, he was that for _Harry Potter_. He didn't wasn't to leave the UK for his _daughter_ , so he just used the Potter kid as a proxy. _That_ kid got four _plus_ parents at every recital, every game, all of it. Along with loads of adoring fans, admiring _The Boy Who Lived._

And, it used to _piss me off_. Here I was, alone with my heartless mother, my only friend a thousand miles away probably thinking I hated him, and there was some kid who got _both_ of his parents, plus one of _mine_ , and _my_ godfather, Remus. When I started my first year at Hogwarts, I was ready to distance myself from the _Boy Who Stole My Dad_ before he even got there. I ended up in Slytherin and I was named a _Beater_ my second year (I may not be the strongest, but I have enough rage to make up for it). But it was the wrong position if I wanted any glory.

I made . . . _acquaintances_ in Slytherin, with my _2nd cousin_ Cassius, Adrian, and eventually Flint. We weren't friends, despite how it might seem. We were just . . . people who associated with each other. We didn't trust each other, or rely on anyone but ourselves. It just wasn't a possibility, us being who we were and are.

Cedric somehow became my _acquaintance_ as well, though he was oblivious to the silent rules of our relationship. I tried my best to ignore people, but he never got the hint, and has been by my side since first year, somehow. I doubted I would ever be rid of his annoyingly _caring_ persona. In all honesty, I don't know what I'd do with all that darkness if he didn't distract me from it.

By my second year, I had burned enough bridges to be labeled an arsonist. And by my third, I was content with spending all seven being an outsider-jackass, minus the four boys I associated with. But then, _Harry freaking Potter_ decided I was lonely or asking for help or some bullshit last year at the Platform. In reality, I was just running away from my problems like I always do.

Dumbledore, along with nearly all of the other professors gave _him_ special treatment they didn't think anyone else deserved. One year, the Headmaster even decided that the _Gryffindors_ deserved to win the House Cup, even though _my_ house had won it fair and square. Because _Merlin forbid_ his highness feel upset after all the _trauma_ he had gone through.

You never saw me getting any house points for my _traumatic incidents_. My first year, a horde of centaurs trampled me half to death when I was serving detention in the _Forbidden Forest_. Last Quidditch season, I broke _three_ ribs and once, I was blinded for a _week_ after some idiot's tried to prank the Slytherin common room with an ill-brewed potion. Even without all that (and more), my mother has treated me like _scum_ since infancy, eventually even _worse_ than scum when I began to look more and more like _Sirius._ She was this modest-seeming, conservative _lady_. And I, was _me_.Bouncing off walls, cursing like crazy, being too much like my father, so much so that she felt the need to _hit_ the rebellion out of me starting with I was seven.

I had dealt with more than my fair share of _trauma_ and _pain_. And while I don't deny it must've _sucked_ when all the crap with Quirrel and the whole _medusa-like snake-fight thing_ , he had people to help him, still does. Whereas, I'm alone, always. _Always_.

__

I sat across from the smiling Hufflepuff with a glare, tired and annoyed. Payment for holding on to my jacket and _stuff_ for me was having breakfast with Cedric this morning. He, being the ball of helpful sunshine he is, took note of how I slept through Breakfast most days last year, and decided to make it his personal mission to make me attend the first meal of the day.

Don't get me wrong, food is the _only_ thing I love. But not even the fluffiest pancakes I've ever had in my life could get me out of bed in the morning. Still, I had to complete my end of the deal. Besides, my roommates— Kia, Ophelia, and Ivy —had been up since the butt crack of dawn squealing and gossiping, per usual, so it was hard to stay asleep.

A freezing shower— thanks to Ivy using all the hot water —and outfit change later, I was sitting at the Hufflepuff table, staring at Cedric Diggory, hair dripping onto my pancakes. The copper-haired boy simply grinned at me, taking a bite of _my_ pancake. I retaliated by stealing his fork and licking it. That backfired when instead of getting a new fork, he just continued eating. Like I hadn't just slobbered over his silverware. _Disgusting_.

"Aren't you a ball of happiness this morning?" He laughed, eyes bright. As easy as it was for me to get angry, I always had trouble staying mad at Hufflepuffs, this one in particular. It was like kicking a puppy. Impossible to do without hating yourself.

"My awful excuses for roommates kept me up half the night," I growled, stabbing into my pancake. "And I had _seven_ first years come to me last night with nightmares or complaints— one was even on her _period_ for Merlin's sake!"

" _Ew_. Aren't they, like, eleven?" The boy looked appalled. "They're _children_. Puberty is—"

"Calm down, Digg. It's just blood and gunk being released through—"

The copper-haired boy choked on his bacon, eyes wide. I snorted as his ears grew red. So much for the calm, cool, collected boy all the Fourth Years swooned over.

"Eventually I threatened to give detention to whoever disturbed me next." I moved on, rolling my eyes.

The rest of the meal passed in easy complaining about the First Years, although I did most of the complaining and he just recovered from _period talk_. As schedules began getting distributed, I bid farewell and began to retreat to the green and silver table.

"See you at lunch?" Cedric questioned as I left.

I frowned, pausing in my stroll. "I agreed to _breakfast_ , Diggory. No one said anything about hauling my ass across the castle for a sandwich at noon."

" _I_ said something, just now. That's when I'll give you your jacket. Besides, there's a Prefect meeting beforehand. _Mandatory_. You would know if you sat in the right place on the train."

I glanced at my House's table, where a glaring Snape handed the stack of schedules over to Flint, retreating back to the Staff Table. "I still can't believe Snape chose _this_ as punishment. I would have preferred a book to the face."

While this was meant to be a joke, it prompted Diggory to give me a _look_. A look that questioned my well-being. His voice dropped to a whisper, and he stood, leaning in once he neared me. "Did _she_ do anything this summer?"

I scoffed, rolling back on the heels of my feet. " _No_ , Diggory. _Nothing happened_. I told you I would take care of it."

" _Dosie_ , we had a deal."

"I _know_ , and I'd—" I looked him straight in the eye, hesitantly resting a hand on his shoulder, then removing it a second later. _I didn't do touchy-feely_. "I can handle my mother, man. Just— Just lay off a bit, okay? I'm a big girl, Dig, I can take care of myself."

"Your independence has nothing to do with whether or not you let your mother—"

I turned abruptly, my book bag swinging behind me. Sending a glare his way, I moved to leave. "Stop playing _big brother_ , Diggory. I don't need one."

Before he could get in another word, I was gone.

__

Soon enough I was receiving my schedule and getting ordered to fix my disheveled uniform ("Tuck in your shirt, tie your tie, after five years of practice, I expect you can do at least _that_ , Miss Black!") by McGonagall, who seems to have forgotten than I am not some Gryffindor buffoon, nor am I a _Black_ , but a _Marx_ , something most of the teachers are oblivious too, even after _five_ years. Then, I was off to my first class— Defense Against Dark Arts, with the absolutely, wonderfully crazy Mad-Eye Moody.

He had made a grand entrance during the feast, which earned him props in my book. Now, I sat next to Cassius, Adrian in the row in front of us. My head was laying on my bag, yawns escaping me every few minutes. I felt more tired than ever, eyes watering enough to wet the Sahara. I thought the bodies around me hid me from Moody's view, but the bony finger pointed at me in the middle of his shouting made me feel I wasn't going unnoticed.

I lazily sat up, blinking a few times. After four different teachers in five years, I wasn't expecting too much from Moody, despite his grand entrance and booming voice. Quirrell had been extremely boring, Lockhart was a pompous ass, and Remus was . . . decent, though he kept trying to be all _uncle-y_ after fifteen years of virtually no contact, unless a birthday card when I was nine counted. But now, he was back Auror- _ing_ , after his year off.

The lesson bored me at first, only getting interesting when he brought out the spiders. I wasn't afraid of bugs like most girls _and some guys_ at Hogwarts, but _Adrian_ was. I grinned, pulling a quill from my bag. As Mad-Eye opened the jar of spiders, I carefully reached forward. As gently as I could, I brushed Adrian's bare neck with the soft part of my quill. Instantly, he jumped up, nearly knocking over his chair.

"Something wrong, Pucey?" Mad-Eye growled out.

"I— . . . " he glanced back at me, glaring, " _No, sir_."

Mad-Eye glared at me for a moment before turning back to the rest of the class. I raised an eyebrow at his back, but said nothing. If he truly annoyed me, I could always slip a few stink pellets in his desk during lunch or something. The Weasley Twins would probably get the credit, but that was fine with me. It would be great if they got punished for it.

If there was anyone at Hogwarts I despised as much or more than Harry Potter, it was George Weasley and his twin brother Fred. But, mostly George.

I had known the red-haired pranksters since First Year, when I bumped into George outside the train. He ended up _annoying_ me and got me in trouble when I snuck out. George ratted me out to Filch, so that he and his brother could get away. Since then, I had a personal vendetta for George specifically, and in turn his siblings. I had messed with each of the Weasley's one way or another while they were at Hogwarts, but the Twins always retaliated.

Unfortunately, they were in my DADA class, only a few rows behind me, hitting me with paper planes every few minutes. Tensing, I pulled one of the now lifeless planes from the hood of my robe, and tapped in with my wand. We were focusing on non-verbal spells this year, so the paper flew out of my hand without a command, hitting George in the forehead.

Suddenly, the class grew silent. Both of the Twin's faces fell, and I turned around quickly. One of the spiders was _convulsing_ , it's limbs contorting in ways that shouldn't be possible. One of the Gryffindors shouted, standing abruptly. "Stop it!"

Surprisingly enough, the insane teacher did. The spider fell back into its jar, now unmoving. "Someone name the three Unforgivable Curses. _Now_."

" _The Killing Curse_ ," Cassius muttered after a long moment of silence.

" _Louder_ , Malfoy!"

"The Killing Curse!" He choked, hands clenched tightly. We weren't supposed to talk about them, the Curses. Everyone knew, you didn't talk about them. You could get in a lot of trouble. People would assume things, your parents might get questioned _randomly_ by the Ministry. I was one of the only exceptions to _part_ of that, seeing as my mother was in America. Still, it made my hands shake and breath quicken. I hated the feeling.

"What's the incantation? Anyone?" When nobody responded, Moody pointed at a Slytherin girl who's name I forget. I felt like a coward. Sitting, letting others risk consequences I wouldn't face.

" _Avada Kedavra._ " The girl nearly whispered. Many of us were struggling to keep our composure, not only Slytherin, but _everyone._ This wasn't something to talk about. This wasn't some lesson we should learn. This wasn't okay.

"And what does it mean?" He growled, looking around. Looking at those dressed in green. I made unwilling eye contact as I turned for my bag, freezing as I scooped it off the ground. George Weasley's face was getting red and he had a white-knuckled grip on his book. He saw it, saw what Moody was doing.

"Let the thing be destroyed." Adrian croaked out, head down. Beside me, Cassius was visibly shaking.

"Next!"

"The Cruciatus Curse. The incantation is _Crucio._ It mean _I torture_. _"_ I sat up, voice shaky despite my anger. "The Imperius Curse. _Imperio._ I control. _"_

I could feel the stares on me, but I just glared at Moody. "Correct, Miss Black—"

"That's not my name," I couldn't help but snap, nails digging into my palms painfully. "Someone as _wise_ as you should be able to know the difference between a pompous 40-year-old _jack_ -ass and a 15-year-old _bad-_ ass."

"That's what you think of yourself, _Black_? You think you're a _badass_?" He spat, narrowed his good eye at me, "You think you're anything more than a Death Eater in the making? A mindless lackey, ready to do the Dark Lord's bidding?"

Moody stared at me, testing me, waiting for me to do something. But, I didn't. Instead, I leaned back in my chair, fixed my composure, and crossed my arms to hide my shaking hands. "I think you're living in the past, Mad-Eye. _Voldemort_ is dead, I would know, _my_ cousin's the one who killed him."

I hated playing the Potter card, but I felt like I was about to punch someone, and it just _slipped out_. The class was silent. Moody turned, starting his lecture again.

"This year, you will first learn about the _Inferius_ and _Dementors_. After you return from winter break, you will learn how to resist the Imperius Curse . . . _by experiencing it_."

A series of protests came from mostly Gryffindors, while I just stared. Most of the Slytherins did the same. Inferi, Dementors, the Unforgivable Curses— those were all thing the Dark Lord used to his advantage at one point or another. The stories had been told to most of us growing up; about _his_ army, how everything was almost lost.

It was a nightmare. One that some of our parents were apart of.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newest chapter of GLORY!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also posted on Wattpad
> 
> @Greek_Goddess_21

**THEO**

~

 **IF THERE IS ANY** adult on earth who I don't actively hate, it's Hagrid. After years as Hogwarts faithful Groundskeeper, he was also the Care of Magical Creatures teacher.

After getting kicked out of Ghoul Studies for Merlin knows what, and a boring Prefect meeting I didn't pay attention too, my anger had yet to dissipate, even slightly. Not wanting to snap at Cedric— only because I wanted back the jacket he conveniently forgot —I went to a place I could safely rage. Hagrid's Hut.

Despite my mother didn't allow me to take Care of Magical Creatures— she refused to sign the wavier or buy the books —I actively tried to learn about Magical Creatures. The old teacher — Kettleburn —wasn't much for talking, but Hagrid always enjoyed a good discussion about the ethics and needs for raising certain beasts.

I banged on the door to the hut on the edge of the forest as I seethed, ready to rip out my hair or toss someone to the squid in the Black Lake. Hagrid opened his door with a grin that faded quickly upon seeing me. Ouch.

"Doe, are yer' skippin' lunch 'gain?"

"I already got scolded by Cedric, I don't need you doing it too." I groaned, shaking my head, "Can have the ax?"

My first year, I had bigger anger issues than I did now— not that I had anger issues. I had a normal amount of anger, just . . . bad ways of expressing it. Hagrid once caught me beating up a tree, all bloody knuckles and bruised toes. Once Madam Pompfrey had fixed my injuries, he made me go down to the Hut. I expected to get yelled at for being out after curfew or breaking the branches on the tree.

Instead, he gave me a heavy ax and taught me how to properly chop wood. I spent most of Potter's first year down there, taking out my anger by increasing Hagrid's Wood Pile. As Quidditch became more prominent in my life and my anger lessened slightly, I stopped needing the outlet as much. But right now, I was either going to go pick a fight or do this.

As I swung the ax down on the first log, my mind flashed to one of the first times I saw Potter away from the rest of the school.

__

I had just finished destroying a pile of wood for Hagrid. The new batch of First Years were getting on my nerves easier than most. I felt out of control, and the still fading reminders left by my mother weren't helping. The cut on my forehead was still healing and obvious, going through my eyebrow onto the bridge of my nose. I didn't go to Pompfrey; if I went to her every time I returned from break injured, someone probably would have noticed something was up by now.

I rounded Hagrid's Hut, ax swinging in my hand. I was already in my school robes, tie loose around my neck. I had some mud on me, as it had been raining yesterday, and I came fresh in the morning, skipping breakfast.

A child's voice caught my attention as I passed by the open window. I could have— should have just left the ax outside like I'd done before and headed back to the castle to change before class. But, instead I peered through the window, spotting a trio of children with the Groundskeeper. A Weasley, a muggleborn, and Potter.

The boy made me want to puke, to scream, to punch him. Even at thirteen, I got angry easily. Too easily. I didn't catch most of what they were saying— seeing as the blood rushing to my ears was deafening me.

Instead of doing something, saying something, I just turned around and went right back to chopping wood, suddenly needing to let off more steam.

__

An hour later, I had broken a sweat and gone through two dozen logs, which I stacked semi-neatly on the ever-growing stack. Sometimes, I think Hagrid had to let out some anger too. Going back inside, I sat across from Hagrid, casually petting Fang. I always wanted a dog, but mother said no, as she did to most things that provided any chance of joy.

"I hate Defense . . . " I began, staring at the dog. I described — in as few words as possible — the bogus lesson I had before lunch, and how shitty it was that Moody was my teacher now.

"And nobody— nobody stopped Moody?" Hagrid asked after I finished my rant.

I furiously shook my head. "Nobody gives a sh— crap about Slytherins. Unless your acting suspicious, then you have Potter breathing your neck, demanding to know which of your friends is a Death Eater."

"That— he has no right to call a student— to call yer a— a Death Eater!" Hagrid frowned deeply, shaking his head. "It's 'surd, you were just a babe when He was still around! Not right!"

I felt . . . better knowing that at least someone outside of Slytherin could see the injustice. "I'm— I'm going to go to Dumbledore myself and—"

"Don't bother, Hagrid." I sighed, shaking my head. "Worse has been said about me. We all know how the faculty here thinks of me."

"You're a teenager— yer' allowed to be childish! Moody has no excuse!"

"Thanks, Hagrid." I smiled slightly, glad to see someone understood. "It's— it's nice to know—"

A pounding on the door interrupted me. Hagrid excused himself, opening the door to reveal Potter and his two friends. I stood, running a hand through my hair.

"I have detention with Snape soon." I lied, sliding out the door. "Thank you for the consultation, Hagrid. I'll make sure to only feed to giant spiders First Years. Wouldn't want them to get a stomach ache."

The half-giant tried to stop me, but I ignored his words. I ducked into the crowd of people now rushing to class after lunch, shoving my way to Charms. I managed to make it into the room just in time, though most already had taken their seats when I arrived. Only the very front and a few spots in the back were available. Rather stay as far from Flitwick as possible, I regretfully took a seat in the back, caught with the Weasley Twins on my left, Adrian and Cassius on my right.

Cassius, Adrian, and I had very few classes together this year, despite being the same House and year. Adrian wasn't the brightest, and Cassius liked to do as little work as possible, leaving them unprepared when the O.W.L.S. took place last year. I got high marks, seeing as I was smart enough to actually study, giving me the pass to take classes the duo couldn't. Which I may have taken just to avoid them. Cassius and Adrian tended to be distracting, and constantly pestered me for help on homework, that I refused to give.

The lesson began only a few seconds after I sat down, so I hoped I could avoid talking with anyone about what happened in Moody's class this morning. The wand poking me in the ribs told me otherwise.

I scowled, turning to George as Flitwick faced the board, making sure to whisper. "What?"

The redhead held up a green and black tie, one I hadn't realized wasn't around my neck. "Think you dropped something, love."

I snatched the piece of fabric from him, shoving it in my robe's pocket. "I'm not your love, Weasley."

The redhead just chuckled, and I caught him shaking his head out of the corner of my eye. "Then why am I always swooping in to save you, Doe?"

I didn't dignify him with a response, knowing he wasn't referring to retrieving my missing tie. A few years ago, when Hagrid had a dragon egg, I used my knowledge of Weasley kids and asked George for . . . assistance passing the egg off through the proper channels. Their older brother ended up sneaking inside the grounds with some friends. Their job sounded pretty cool, actually. Better than a boring job at the Ministry, for sure.

Of course, since then, George has acted all more-than-friendly to me, in a way only Cedric and maybe Cassius was allowed to act. As though we get along, chat, hang out by the Black Lake— okay, one time, Third Year, we stole some firewhiskey and got drunk by the water, but that was it. Maybe there was some strip Exploding Snap and running half-nude from Filch. The details are fuzzy. But I wasn't friends with anyone; I had agreements between people. Cassius and Adrian understood, but idiots like Cedric and George didn't seem to get it.

The rest of Charms thankfully passed without anyone annoying me further. I rushed to Potions, showing up earlier than I usually would. I let my bag slam on an empty chair, moving to Snape with a glare. I hadn't had an opportunity to talk with my Head of House away from prying eyes, so I was thankful for the Potion's classroom's location, requiring a trek to go to class for most.

"Professor, I need to talk to you about my punishment." I breathed, out of breath from running from Charms.

The greasy-haired teacher raised an eyebrow, the usual scowl on his face. "Have you already received detention, Marx?"

"No, the whole 'Prefect Thing'. I assumed it was for something I did last year, or a pre-punishment for what—"

"I have no idea what you're babbling about," Snape drawled, "Finch finished her schooling last year, leaving the position open. Now, it is filled."

"Yes, but I'm a delinquent, all the teachers say so. And the smart kids are always chosen as Prefects—"

Snape sighed. "Take your seat, Marx. You accepted the position—"

"I—"

Snape's scowl deepened. "You sent back your acceptance in July, Marx."

"But—" My voice faltered. I couldn't say my mother forced me. I shook my head. "Never mind, I'll handle it."

I moved back to my seat, sitting in silence as the room filled with people. I had trouble paying attention during the lesson, though that's mostly because it was an hour of Snape lecturing a room of mostly-Slytherins on what he expected of us this term.

Afterward, I went straight to the Slytherin dorms, flopping on my bed. Only one of my roommates had the same idea to drop off her things before dinner, though she was busy fixing herself in the bathroom mirror.

I glanced at Kia Pucey, the twin sister to Adrian and pain in my ass. While she wasn't a total hag, she was annoying as hell. The raven-haired girl liked to poke sore spots, and tended to value looks over most other things. I had been 'friends' with her First Year, thinking she was exactly the type of girl my mother would like me to be friends with. That summer, however, I realized it didn't matter who I was friends with; it mattered who I was. And who I was— it isn't someone my mother will ever approve of.

Since then, Kia has been a bitter reminder of who I once tried to be. I sighed, standing up from my bed. My stomach was growling as I realized how hungry I was after missing lunch and nearly sleeping through breakfast. I reached to my Trunk's lock, opening it and dropping my school bag inside. Something else I learned after my first year; if you value something, don't leave it laying around your dorm. Hide it, lock it up, keep it safe. Or the next thing you know, you're being forced to pay 30 Galleons to get back your winter cloak right before the train leaves.

I spared a final glance at Kia, still analyzing her look in the mirror. I rolled my eyes, leaving the dorm and moving through the Common Room. I froze at the sound of soft sniffles, turning my head towards a couch in the corner. I silently moved towards it, looking for the source of the sniffling.

Behind the couch, sat a First Year girl, face blotchy and uniform disheveled. I sighed, shaking my head softly. "Kid, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

My words were harsher than I intended, but it got her attention. She looked up at me, all doe eyes and tears. "I— I miss . . . I miss my b—brother."

I closed my eyes for a second, fighting back a groan. "Your brother?"

"He's in— in— in Gryffindor." She cried, shaking her head. "I messed up t—the Sorting—"

"You can't mess up a Sorting, idiot." I shook my head. "It's based off magic and shit."

This apparently did nothing to sooth the eleven-year-old, so I scratched my head in confusion. "Uh, what's his name? Your brother?"

The girl hiccuped her answer, rubbing away her tears. "S-Seamus. He's a fourth . . . a fourth year."

"Come on, then." I held out my hand with a scoff. "Time to find some Gyrffin-dorks."

As the short girl followed me to the Great Hall, sniffling every few seconds to my great annoyance, I questioned what I was doing. Helping out anyone I didn't know— even if it was a sniffling First Year from my own house —was something extremely out of character for me.

I put away my thoughts as we neared the hall, glancing at the girl. "Wipe your eyes, kid. Nobody wants to be the girl who cries the first day of class."

The young Slytherin did as I instructed, straightening her robes as well. I awkwardly placed my hand on her shoulder, directing her towards the obnoxiously loud Gryffindors. I cleared my throat rather loudly when I recognized the loud friend of my so-called cousin. He turned around quickly, eyes going wide at the sight of me with his sister.

I felt the stares of a few, and I dropped my hand from the girl's shoulder. My job was done. I was about to finally go and get some food, when the annoying boy had to ruin the nice moment I created.

Seamus glared at me, pulling his younger sister towards him. "What are you doing with Emmy?"

Ah, so that was the girl's name. A smirk slid onto my face, as I cocked my head. "I thought I'd show your sister how unpleasant Gryffindor is, compared to Slytherin that is."

Molly furrowed her eyebrows at me, but turned to her brother. "Can I eat with you, Sea?"

The boy shook his head, Molly's eyes welling up with more tears. "Emmy, you know you can't—"

"I don't see why not, jackass." I interrupted, throwing in an insult to fight the goo-i-ness. "I'm the Slytherin Prefect, and I couldn't give two shits where she sits. Besides, she's whiny, I don't like whiny."

The boy looked shocked, opening his mouth for a thank you. "Thanks, Doe—"

"As I said, I don't like whiny." I glanced at the First Year, recognizing her as one of the ones who actually slept on time last night. "Take the night to man up. I expect you to report to my dorm tomorrow before breakfast."

I left quickly, sitting down between Flint and Cassius at my table. I got a view of Emmy sitting next to her brother, leaning her head on his shoulder as she sniffled occasionally. I scoffed. Whiny. Hungrily, I fill my plate, eating as fast as I can without choking. I ate too quickly and too much, I think, because by the end of the meal, I felt like I was about to puke.

I excused myself from the meal, stepping outside the Great Hall. Leaning against a wall, I close my eyes, feeling tired and shitty.

"That was nice of you, Doe." I opened my eyes, face to face with Harry Potter.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newest chapter

_**THEO** _

_**~** _

**THE NAME HARRY MEANS** ruler. And I think that's what Potter believes he is. A ruler. Except, I am not a subject, and he doesn't wear a crown. In my opinion, he was nothing but a spoiled boy who thought himself great. Many Slytherins shared my thoughts, but many of them also had a misplaced God complex themselves. I don't think myself a God or Queen, I never have and never will. I act like it, sure, but who doesn't act like they're more than they are?

Right now, however, with Harry James Potter staring at me, while I felt as though I might puke for two different reasons, it was hard to act Godly. "What the _fuck_ are you talking about, Potter?"

"Letting Seamus' sister sit with him at dinner." He explained, smiling. "It was a nice thing for you to do, Theo."

I flipped him the bird, rolling my eyes. "Her whining in the Common Room was annoying me. I didn't want to deal with her all dinner. Simple as that, idiot."

"Sure, Theo, I—"

"That's not my name, you dumb fu—"

"Miss Black, Mr. Potter, is their a reason for your loitering?" Moody's growling voice interrupted my insult as he hobbled towards us.

I glared at the professor, digging my nails into my palms. "I'm just talking to my _little cousin_ , Mad-Eye. He had a bad dream last night, crying, screaming, he even wet the bed—"

"Knock it off, Theo." Harry huffed, smile fading. _Good_. "We were just talking, sir. We'll be back to dinner shortly."

"Speak for yourself, Potter." I snorted, moving from where I leaned against the wall. "I'm going."

"Going where, Miss Black? Dinner isn't over—"

"I'm sick—"

"Sick?"

I fought back a smirk, staring at Mad—Eye. "Blood is currently rushing from my _va_ —"

"Enough!" Moody snapped his head back, looking _appalled_. "You're _excused_ , Miss Black."

I snorted, striding towards the dungeons. I had about a dozen different excuses I could have used, but the whole _monthly-pain-explosion_ worked every time without fail. Once, I even got a pass from _Filch_ when I claimed I was going to the Medical Wing for . . . _supplies_ after curfew.

I sighed as I walked through the dungeons, a shiver shaking through me. I regretted leaving my robe behind, pulling down the sleeves I had earlier rolled up to my elbow. A thump was heard from the darkness, followed by scratching, prompting me to hurry inside the Common Room. I didn't know what the other noise was, but the scratching was a tell-tale noise made by _rats_.

If there was one creature I hated more than anything, it was rats. The beady eyes, long tails— _disgusting_. Spiders, worms, moths— all of those were fine by me. But rats grossed me out tremendously. Thankfully, wards prevented rodents from entering the Dorms and Common Room, leaving it clean and keeping pets outside or at homes. But the Dungeons . . . I swear they were filled with all sorts of nasty things. Ones I didn't care to find.


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newest chapter

_**THEO** _

_**~** _

**~ Time Skip to October 28th of the School Term ~**

**I SOMEHOW JUST KNEW** they would do something stupid when I walked into _DADA_ that morning, my tie already loose around my neck. _I could only handle the constricting material for so long_. As predicted, the redheaded devils attacked me as soon as I walked in, standing on either side of me. Groaning, I sat at a desk, bracing myself for the worst when George sat at my table, Fred at the one next to us.

"What do you idiots want?" I growled, still tired from the long night before. I never went to sleep good the night before this dreadful day.

"Happy Birthday, love." George grinned widely.

I froze, keeping a white-knuckled grip on the table. "How the fuck—"

"We have our ways, Marx." Fred supplied, sharing his brother's smile, but enjoying me squirming a bit more than George.

I groaned. I _despised_ celebrating my birthday, and had done everything in my power to keep _anyone_ at school from knowing when it was. I wondered who squealed. " _Potter_?"

"Can't say." The Twins shared a glance. "Classified."

"I'm surprised he even knows when it is," I muttered, frowning further. "You idiots better not have told anyone—"

"Maybe a couple dozen—"

"Or hundred." The two joked, clearly finding my displeasure amusing.

My chest felt heavy as the words sunk in, class beginning before they could do anything more to what little sanity I had left. It felt hard to breath as the minutes ticked by, a million possibilities of what awaited me running through my head. I caught sight of Adrian a few rows ahead, who glanced back at me with a confused look. With what could only be _worry_. I didn't want that. I don't want that.

I averted my stare to the board, attempting to keep a grip on my composure while I still could. For some reason, _this_ day always threw me off. Usually, I would've just told off the Twins and given Adrian the finger. Anything else— _nearly_ anything else —wouldn't have caused such a reaction. And, above all— it made me feel _weak_.

I stood from my seat abruptly as soon as the bell signaled the end of class, interrupting Moody's speech, and walked from the room, ignoring the various sounds of protest and the fact that I left behind my bag. My leather jacket was already on when I stormed from the room, breaking into a run as soon as I pushed outside of the castle.

My feet slammed against the ground as I neared the Black Lake, only stopping when I felt my heartbeat in my throat and had a stitch in my side. I slumped to the ground by the lake, leaning against a tree. It was cold out, per usual this time of year, but I felt sweaty and hot.

I hated my birthday.

My mother used to make me celebrate with these parties; but they weren't parties for _me_ , they were for her. No kids would come, it'd just be me sitting in a itchy dress with my hair pulled back painfully while my mother and her friends drank and chatted. I was like a doll on display, meant to sit still and look pretty. I hated it.

It made me feel— more than ever —that I wasn't in control. Reminded me how much of a puppet I was to my mother's whims. Anything I did, she reined over me. Sometimes, I wonder if my hate for everything related to my father is just a reflection of her's. But then, I remember that someone like him cares about people like Potter; who spill secrets they have no right to share, without any thought to _why_ it's a secret.

When school first started, I ignored this dreadful day, and because nobody knew when it was, everyone else would too. I didn't need gifts; it's not like I had any more room to hide things from my mother. I hadn't ever had cake, so I didn't ask for any on my birthday, like some did. My mother didn't believe in sweets at all, and I never had a allowance to buy any with at Hogwarts. Hell, I wasn't even allowed to go to Hogsmede to buy any even if I did. Birthdays weren't really anything but a reminder of those awful times stuck with my mother.

Tears threatened to leave my eyes as I sat by the Black Lake, but I refused to let them fall. I wasn't one for crying, especially not over some dumb boys knowing my birthday. I felt weird; for once, I wasn't angry. I was just . . . _sad_. The emotions blended so well over the years, I didn't know there was a difference between the two anymore.

But, here I was, already late for my next class by now. And I didn't feel the urge to punch someone or beat up a tree. In fact, I just wanted to curl up and _cry_. I was well aware that I was in the open, so I refused to waver any further, opting to stare at the Black Lake, the surface rippling every once in a while.

I thought of the Tournament for the first time in weeks as my sadness faded. We all were well aware of the rules; nobody under sixteen, and two people from each school would be chosen. For Hogwarts, one of each gender I think, leaving three girls versus three boys. Fair enough for my standards. The schools were arriving in two days, and we would have until the end of the Halloween feast to enter our names. I made the cut off of sixteen, just barely. So did many of my class.

The Weasley Twins, who had already turned sixteen in April. Cedric, who would be seventeen in the summer. Adrian, Cassius, Flint— nearly everyone I associated with was able and going to enter, especially the Slytherins. One of us would likely be chosen as Champion. While I wasn't going to be a _wimp_ and chicken out, Adrian's warning from so long ago rang in my head. He was worried, and part of me had a bad feeling about what was yet to come.

Taking in a deep breath, I forced myself to calm down. The Tournament was starting in only a few days. I couldn't break down so easily. Still, I had no desire to stride into Potions late, so I decided skipping it all together would be easier. Picking myself up, I brushed grass off my uniform, angry that the thin tights under my skirt didn't offer more protection against the harsh wind of October.

I made my way to Hagrid's Hut eventually, watching him teach from the back of a group of Fourth Years. The scowl I had been carrying left my face as I watched Hagrid teach, absorbing the information silently from the back.

Feeling a stare on my back, I glanced at Potter and his friends, watching him stare.

__

**HARRY POV**

**~**

I always wanted a sister.

After me, my mom couldn't have any more kids. And while adoption was a possibility, with the dangers that come with having the last name Potter, along with the life stuck in the public eye, my parents stopped with me.

When I first heard about Theodosia, I was ten. I heard my uncle fighting with my parents in the kitchen when I was trying to get a glass of water. For a long time, I was angry at him for leaving her. He claimed she was happier without him, and safer.

When I saw her, I knew that wasn't true.

We were in the Great Hall, and my heart had stopped hammering long enough for me to get a good look around the room. A girl at the Slytherin table glared at me. She had the same messy black hair as my uncle, and I couldn't tell at the time, but she had his eyes. I asked Fred— the older brother of my best friend since diapers. He responded with a booming laugh and an easy grin.

"That's Theo Marx. The love of dear Georgie's life."

I later learned that her name was actually _Theodosia Jameson Elizabeth Marx-Black_ , which was the second-longest name I had ever heard. The first being Dumbledore's. She was my cousin, and by the glares she and her friends sent me, she knew it.

Four years later, not much has changed. Except now, there's a deadly Tournament she's eligible to enter. And, if I know anything about Theo, she's going to enter.

Ron and Hermione agreed when I brought up the subject, the former looking worried. After all, he had two brothers able to enter, even if they promised his mother they wouldn't. We had been waiting for the chance to talk to her, convince her it was a bad idea. I was planning on finding her during lunch, but it seemed I didn't need to.

A few minutes into class, she appeared in the back of the group, short enough to blend in. Her height almost lessened the intensity of her glare, but not by much. Except, for once, she wasn't glaring. She seemed in a trance as she listened to Hagrid teach, eyes lighting up at the information being given.

I must've been staring for too long, because she suddenly whipped her head towards me, the familiar scowl forming on her face. Glancing to my right, she clenched her hands into fists, shoving them in the pockets of her jacket.

That jacket. The one that matched all the ones in old pictures my family had from school days. I doubted she even realized it was her father's when she strolled into school wearing it. But, I wasn't going to tell her. Not if it meant her getting rid of it or hating me more than she did.

"I don't think she'll listen to us, Harry." Ron whispered as I turned away from my cousin.

I nodded in defeat. "Plan B it is."

__

"Are they a crossbreed?" I questioned, eyeing the odd creatures. "I've never seen something like that before."

"'Aye, made 'em myself." Hagrid grinned proudly. "Still tryin' to—"

"Figure out they're eating habits? What are they— a mix of manticore and . . . firecrabs?"

The half-giant smiled once more, nodding. I moved closer to inspect one crate, smiling down at the worm-like beasts. Shaking my head, I took a step back, looking at the class. None of the students seemed to appreciate the _coolness_ of what Hagrid had. I felt sour towards the frowning groups, glowering at Potter and his lackeys. Few Slytherins were in the class, probably as a result of what happened last year. All it took was one little Malfoy throwing a fit for _cousin_ Lucius to knocking on the Headmaster's door, Ministry in tow.

I smirked, remembering the plan Cedric, the Weasley's, and I hatched when we learned of Buckbeak's fate. It was one of the few times I was civil towards the Twins— who convinced their dragon loving brother to find a place for the beast. We snuck him out of the grounds after curfew, where a group of twenty-year-olds from the _Scamander Sanctuary_ took over. We got sneaking back, detention for a month, a inquisition from the Ministry — which made the American government angry, seeing as I was a _duel-citizen_ , entitled to _duel-inquisitions_ or something — and I almost got kicked out of the UK. It was pretty great, and the four of us went down in history.

Even though it was only last year, everything felt so different now. Before, I was different around people; I know I was. That's why people like Potter and the Weasley's think they can just hit me with love and friendship until I give in. But, things changed over the summer, more now than ever before. I can't be who I wish I was. I can't. Even if I sometimes wish that I could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: OKAY. SO. YEAH. I probably explained this kinda crapily, but basically I was trying to say maybe Theo wasn't always such a lone wolf, even in the past school year. If you remember from earlier, something happened at the platform at the beginning of the summer. That's part of what happened and why this school year is worst than her previous ones may have been.)


	6. Six

**_THEO_ **

**_~_ **

**TROUBLE WAS IN THE AIR** as the delegates arrived. Forced to wait outside in the cold, I was thankful for my height, for once. Standing five foot three, the bodies of annoyingly tall upperclassman blocked the chill for the most part. But, I was still freezing my _ass_ off.

"This is ridiculous," I scoffed, rubbing my arms for warmth. I had neglected to bring my fur-lined winter cloak from the depths of the common room, leaving me in just my school uniform, not even my jacket around to save me from the frost.

With a sigh from my side, a arm was suddenly wrapped around me, pulling me partially under someone's cloak. I sent a glare at the _warm_ Cedric Diggory, ready to remind him that I was a independent person who did not need to be warmed by—

"You were complaining too much. I'm trying to hear. Win-win, Doe."

"Fine," I sighed, leaning further into the warmth.

It took an eternity for the delegates to arrive from the other three schools, all of which was spent trying to stay awake, enveloped in Hufflepuff warmth. It was probably the longest time I had voluntarily touched someone while (mostly) conscious. Eventually though, I started to doze off, leaning more into Cedric.

The next thing I knew, all three delegates had arrived, and Cedric was shaking me awake. Blinking widely, I glanced at the two different schools— Durmstrang, Beauxbotons.

"Y'know, I wouldn't be opposed to a piggy-back into the castle." I murmured, trying to look tough while fighting a yawn.

Cedric laughed, cocking his head. "Really? It won't ruin your reputation?"

"I'll just say you're my servant, if anyone asks."

Instead of giving a response, the Hufflepuff suddenly had me on his back, holding me by the legs as I gripped his cloak. I slowly woke up more and more as we entered the castle, noticing the _amused_ look on McGonagall's face, and the eye roll from my Head of House. Cedric deposited me at the Slytherin table, ruffling my hair before I could stop him. I scoffed, jokingly shoving him as I sat down.

__

" _Tee_ , you put your name in yet?"

I turned towards the annoyance, cocking an eyebrow. "What makes you think I'm stupid enough to try and enter?"

The twins shared a glance, laughing. " _Psh_ , we all know you can't resist—"

"Like you two aren't going to do the same?" I questioned, reading the instructions of the board.

"Well, we were waiting until tonight—"

"Give it a bit of flourish." George grinned, leaning closer.

I bit my lip, shaking my head as I tried to fight a smirk. "You know, it's only two champions from each school, which means—"

"You and me, love _._ " George grinned, tugging my chair closer to his. "Freddie can cheer us on."

"More like me and Cassiuswhile you _Gryffin-dorks_ cheer Slytherin on for the win."

From a few desks away, a Slytherin let out a _whoop_ , making me roll my eyes and the bane of my existence— Moody — to shout a scolding. I usually wasn't one for _house pride_ but I'd choose Slytherin over the other houses _any_ day. And I'd choose _anyone_ over George Weasley _every_ day.

It has always been quite obvious that Slytherin's get unfair blame. We're the house with the highest annual number of orphaned, neglected, or abused students. Most with families are pressured to join the Death Eaters, and many don't return each semester.

The Triwizard Tournament— as pitiful as it sounded —is Slytherin's one chance at true glory. If we win the House Cup, the other three are losers. If we gain House Points, we've attained them unfairly. When we win a Quidditch match, we were cheating. It's always _something_ we do wrong. But, if _one_ Slytherin got chosen, the whole school would be cheering us on. Suddenly, we would be— we would be _great_. And, if we _won_? Merlin, I think the whole school would wear green.

Not that I would ever, _ever_ admit that to the world. Even if it was about my own House, I wasn't one to show attachment towards anything, or offense about anything some stupid _Gyrffin-dorks_ think about me. I wasn't going to let anyone have that power over me. Not again. I burned my bridges a long time ago, and I have no intent on rebuilding them.

__

It was long after lunch that I was summoned to the Headmaster's Office. I figured it was about my complete abandonment of Prefect Duties, and brought with the badge I rarely wore, ready to give the position away the first chance I got. Since the start of term, I had only attended half of the meetings, and forgot of skipped any duties I had. I'm pretty sure I was in charge of showing around some of the delegates, but I never did. Also, I may have been selling pranking supplies to students since the start of term. I realized last year that instead of getting my hands dirty, I could just give others the means to do it themselves.

But, as I strolled into Dumbledore's office, I wasn't met with a lecture or shouting match. Instead, I was met with pleasantries.

"Ah, Miss Black, please, take a seat,"

I resisted rolling my eyes at the niceties, slouching in one of the plush chairs across from him. "It's actually Marx. _Sir_."

"My apologies, Miss _Marx_. Now, on to why I've summoned you." I braced myself, ready to make up an excuse for whatever he thought I did. "I'm afraid you have been led to believe that you are allowed to participate in the Triwizard Tournament."

I felt my stomach drop. "Because I am, professor. I turned 16 before—"

"You were 15 at the start of Term. I apologize, but you are _not_ allowed to enter."

I stood with clenched knuckled, already feeling my face go red with anger. "That's _bull._ I turned 16 before the Tournament, I should be allowed to enter."

"I'm sorry, Miss Marx, but you are _not_. Your parents agree that—"

"My _parents_? Plural?" I questioned loudly. "Sirius did this— didn't he? He called you, so— so he wouldn't get bad press if— if I became a Champion—"

"I apologize, Miss Marx. But, you are ineligible to participate."

I let out a noise of anger before storming out of his office, barely catching what Dumbledore said as I left. " _Just like your father._ "

I was seeing red as I ran through the corridors, shoving my way outside the school. I only stopped when I at the border into the Forbidden Forest, shuddering with each breath, my bag and robe long forgotten somewhere on the school grounds.

I let out a shout, fisting my hair tightly. " _Fuck!_ "

Turning to the closest tree, I slammed my fist against the bark, again and again and again. I was so angry, I wasn't thinking. By the time I stopped, my knuckles were stained red and blood was trailing down my fingers. I forced myself to return to the castle as it grew darker, stupid but not stupid enough to wait around for the beasts in the Forest I probably attracted with my blood and shouting. I knew better than that.

__

Madam Pompfrey always writes the Head of House and your parent when you get injured. Except, parental custody wasn't really a _thing_ at Hogwarts, seeing as they message my _closest_ parent physically, meaning _Sirius Black._ Not that my mother is any better. But while he never sends anything to me, I hate the idea of him knowing _anything_ about me. And it's not like he'd do anything. He never checks in. Not that I should care, I mean, I _don't_ care. But, a small part of me _stings_ every time _he_ doesn't care _._

Nevertheless, Pompfrey's wasn't an option. There was only a few places at Hogwarts I could go that would do the same- _ish_ work. The kitchen.

I had realized early on that the House Elves did _everything_ at Hogwarts. They didn't just do the cleaning and make the food. They restocked and sorted the medical supplies for Pompfrey, served as assistants when needed. They were basically nurses themselves after a year or two working at the school, if they didn't spend it cleaning and cooking.

I was sly about making my way into the kitchen, making sure to stay unseen as I tickled the pear. Few people knew how to access the kitchen, and I'd prefer to keep it that way. I only learned after a very odd encounter with the painting and Cedric one night.

When I got inside, most were already finished with the clean-up from dinner, and starting on breakfast preparations for the next morning. I neared one of the older House Elves, _Bobbit_ , with a sly grin. "Do you think you can give me a hand with something, Bobbit?"

The House Elf nodded worriedly, already seeing my hands. Beckoning me closer, she held me hands in the lantern light, shaking her head. "Mistress Doe shouldn't hurt herself. Bobbit will help."

"Thank you, Bobbit." I responded, knowing any explanation wouldn't matter to the worried House Elf. My fits of rage were something that should be kept hidden anyways. The House Elves were some of the few beings who I treated with care, who I didn't glare at or hate. They were selfless beings, devoted to serving others. And while I couldn't understand how they did it, I appreciated it nonetheless.

As I sat in front of Bobbit and the other Elves crowding around me now, I did my best to think rationally. My hands throbbed in pain as any adrenaline I had left me, and while I wanted to claim I had a high pain tolerance, I really didn't. I bit my lip harshly to keep from crying out as Bobbit cleaned my wounds, paying close attention to my injured hands. I had worse injuries before, but that didn't mean it hurt any less— despite what muggle's on TV said.

The House Elf made quick work of caring for my injuries, nimble hands wrapping around my knuckles after my hands had been cleaned and cared for. Once I eventually ran out of excuses and places to hide, I bid the House Elves that had been caring for me goodbye, insisting the worried creatures I wouldn't get in trouble for being out past curfew, being a Prefect and everything. Which, I realized was complete and utter _bullshit_ when I entered the Common Room that night and Flint nearly _immediately_ ordered me into Snape's office.

Usually, the Professor wasn't in his office (which connected to the Potion's classroom and the Common Room) this late unless someone was _really_ in trouble. And it seemed, for once, it was me. I had actually gotten caught with something he could prove. And, I didn't even care. Because my hands were hurting, my eyes were red from lack of sleep and my feet were heavy with lack of energy.

So, I just walked into his office and sat and stared at the fuming Professor.

"Care to explain why you decided to _abandon_ your duties as Prefect, along with half of your classes today, Miss Marx?"

I smiled, running a hurt hand through my hair. A snort left me as I doubled over, breathing heavily as I laughed. It was hollow and angry somehow, but I was still laughing at Snape. " _Marx—_ "

"S—sorry Professor. I— I . . . I just can't believe it." I shook my head, once black locks falling in my face. "I can't believe _you_ could put aside your hate for my father to make my life miserable. Prefect duty, writing _him_ , it doesn't _matter_ as long as it hurts me, right?"

"Marx, what on earth are you rambling about? This is a serious matter—"

"Oh, no. Did I do something wrong? What are you gonna do— write Sirius? Oh, wait, you already did that—"

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Marx. Explain yourself or stop shouting."

"You wrote Sirius! Got me suspended from the Tournament!" I yelled, throwing up my hands.

Snape stared at me in confusion. "Who told you that?"

"Nobody needed too. Dumbledore said enough; my _parents_ agreed with his choice to suspend me from the Tournament."

"That's against the regulations set forth. Any student over sixteen before the day the Goblet is opened can enter. And I would never willingly contact your _father_." He spat out the last part with venom, looking annoyed. But for once, I don't think he was annoyed at _me_.

"Oh."

For a moment, it was silent. " _Marx_ —"

He stopped himself, then shook his head lightly. " . . . Report to the Medical Wing first thing in the morning and then get notes from the meeting from Mr. Flint. If you miss class and shirk your duties again, expect a week of detention and double assignments for the next _month_."

Slightly shocked at my lack of punishment, I stared at my Head of House for a long moment. "Would you prefer deten—"

"Perfectly happy, Professor! G'night." Scrambling up, I ducked out of his classroom quickly, brushing past Flint as I rushed to my dorm.

After my one-sided shouting match with Snape, I felt more confused than ever. Who else— if not Snape —would get my father to do anything in my life? Surely he didn't here I —specifically —was eligible on his own. I doubt he even knows how old I am.

__ oct. 31st __

I was currently wandering the halls— lost —with grey hair, Half-blind.

It was all the potion's fault.

I drank some of the aging potion my mortal enemies and Lee had made, as mine had floundered earlier when I accidentally dumped my contacts in, rather than what I was supposed to. Because I thought making a potion in my bathroom sink half-blind was a _good_ idea. I was old enough, I knew it in my bones. But, extra precautions never hurt. Except for this instance, seeing as now I couldn't see, someone was laughing, someone else said my hair had gone _Grandma_ , and the twins were both laughing as their younger friend and me failed.

I stumbled walking out of the Great Hall, nearly crashing into a few people as I attempted to make my way to the Medical Wing. "Doe! Are you okay?"

Squinting, I fought back a sigh as I saw the younger brother of the Weasley Twins, who doubled as Potter's best friend. "I'm _fine_. Beat it, Weasley."

"Really? Cause you look like you just stepped out of Saint Mungo's—"

"I just lost my contacts—"

"Your _what_?"

"Muggle thing—"

"I'm kidding. I know what contacts are. Harry tried them for a summer when we were younger." I stared at the redhead's arm as he held it up. "You probably can't see. I'll take you to Pompfrey."

Sighing in regret, I latched on to his arm, letting him guide me to the Medical Wing. Annoyingly, I only came up to his nose, making me feel more weak than before. The silence was deafening, only the sound of our feet and distant talking filling the void of awkwardness.

"I'm having flashbacks to second year," I muttered, squinting as a headache brewed.

"What happened second year?"

I nearly jumped, not realizing I had spoken out loud. " _Uh_ , some first years tried to make the Slytherin Common Room stink or something, but they messed up the potion and it exploded when I found it. I was blind for a couple of weeks."

"What the _hell_?" _Hm_ , Little Weasley seemed angry. _Odd_. "How come nobody heard about it? Did they get expelled?"

I shrugged, "Dumbledore swept it under the rug. I was the only one hurt, and they fixed my vision, _mostly._ And, _no_ , I think the group just got detention and a few House Points taken away. _Like always_."

For a moment, it was quiet. The two of us walking towards what I assume would be the Medical Wing. Once more, I felt awkward and weak.

"Bloody Hell, I think I hate Dumbledore." The Gryffindor suddenly exclaimed, shaking his head.

"Wow, never thought I'd see a Gryffindor defend a Slytherin." Ron seemed like he was about to say something, but shook his head, instead opening a door. We had reached Pompfrey. "Looks like we've arrived. Thanks, Little Weasley."

"Sure, Marx," He responded as I let go of him. "See you around."

I entered the Medical Wing, for some reason feeling . . . _bad_. Although I _did_ feel as though I might hurl from the dizzy headache I had developed, I didn't think it was from that.

__

A few hours later, a pair of horn-rimmed glasses sat on my nose, granting me sight. My hair had been fixed— though it reverted back to it's natural color of black, four times dying it gone down the drain. While Madam Pompfrey did not have my contacts somehow, she did have a House Elf retrieve my glasses from my dorm room nightstand, so I wouldn't have to suffer trying to make my way to the dungeons.

The Halloween Feast was in full swing as I entered the Great Hall, moving straight towards the Goblet of Fire. In only a few hours, the feast would end and so would my opportunity. I wasn't going to wait any longer.

Newly black hair fell in my face as I neared the glowing object, my name scrawled messily on a scrap piece of parchment. Carefully, I took a step inside the Age Line. I passed easily. I was, after all, eligible, despite _his_ attempt to make me think otherwise. I felt some eyes on me as I tossed the slip of paper inside, an anxious feeling filling me as I took in the gravity of what I had done.

And just like that, it was over. A wave of cheers hit me as I left the circle, the loudest from Slytherin. I had either just made the best or worst decision of my life. Merlin, I hope it's the best.


	7. Seven

_**THEO** _

**~**

**MY HANDS WOULDN'T STOP** shaking. I wasn't typically a _nervous_ person; most of the time I could handle whenever I _did_ get worried about something. Usually, it was things a lot more big than some tournament, like going home or sneaking around. Things that were justified, reasonable, totally understandable.

But this wasn't normal, and I had no right to worry. Dozens upon dozens of other kids had entered with me from Hogwarts, and chances were I wouldn't even get chosen. But the thing is, that's _why_ I was freaking out just a bit. I wanted to get chosen. In my head, I was entering to show people I wasn't afraid, maybe get Slytherin the recognition it deserved. But, now that I had submitted my name and everything, I found it curious I wanted this so much.

Usually— although I was in no way shy —I kept low. People either feared or hated me, ending with me getting left alone. I had dealt with the drama of getting noticed at Sirius Black's daughter when I was first attending Hogwarts, but by now, that news had faded. I knew it was entirely stupid to draw this— or _any_ —kind of attention to myself. But, somehow, I still wanted _so_ badly to get my name called. It was confusing, to say the least.

I watched Dumbledore carefully as I ate, attempting to decipher the mask he wore. Surely, he would find a way to get me in trouble, or get my entry striked from whatever record was surely being kept. I ignored the food filling the table, clenching my hands under my legs to hide the shaking of my betraying hands. I expected outrage, shouting, detention— instead, I watched the old man pick food from his beard.

"Regretting your choice, Theodosia?" A pompous ass asked from a few seats down.

I turned my glare on the younger Malfoy, watching him squirm under my frown. "I regret saving your ass after Moody turned you into a ferret a couple of weeks ago, Draco."

The blonde looked away after an elbow in his side form Cassius, pouting at his plate. I rolled my eyes, ignoring the duo as Dumbledore began his usual dramatic speech. Everything suddenly went cold, and I was unable to focus on the Headmaster's voice as he spoke.

I watched with wide eyes as he neared the Goblet, making a large sweeping motion with his wand. All of the candles— minus the ones in the carved pumpkins for some reason —went out, casting a dramatic glow around the Hall, but thankfully hiding my surely frightened expression. At this point, I had given up on trying to hide my nerves, focused solely on what was about to happen.

The Goblet of Fire glowed icy blue, the brightest thing in the Hall. I squinted at the glare, waiting in suspense. Everyone— even the Gryffindors —was silent, watching the Goblet glow. Suddenly, the flames became red once more, sparks shooting from it, making my flinch back. Not a moment later, two slightly charred pieces of parchment flew up from the Goblet, gasps filling the large room.

Dumbledore caught the parchment, holding them near the closest candle to read it. "The Champions of Durmstrang are Viktor Krum and Pietro Romanov!"

Cheers rang through the room, Krum and Romanov standing with stoic expressions. Both rounded Slytherin table— where they had been sitting —and walked past the staff table, through some door I hadn't noticed before. I guess _that_ was what Dumbledore was rambling about earlier.

As the clapping and excitement died down, everyone returned there attention to the Goblet, myself included. I watched with my breath held as two more pieces of parchment shot up from the Goblet of Fire, landing in Dumbledore's waiting hands. Repeating his earlier actions, I watched as he held the pieces to the flame, squinting.

"The Champions from Beauxbatons are Anya Joav and Fleur Delacour!" The old man announced, smiling slightly as the two girls stood from Ravenclaw.

I stared at the Goblet rather than watch the two girls leave the Hall, waiting for the final duo to be announced. The Goblet's flames rose once more, the two _final_ slips of parchment leaping from the Goblet of Fire. Dumbledore grabbed the two parchment, holding them in front of himself, his mouth twitching into a frown.

"The Champions from Hogwarts are Cedric Diggory and . . . " He paused, eyes somehow finding mine in the dark. "Theodosia Black."

I froze. I was frozen. I think my heart _actually_ stopped beating. I stared at Dumbledore, wondering if this was actually, really _real_ —

Cheers rang among my table, and hands were patting my back, pushing me to stand. From the Hufflepuff table, Cedric beamed at me, walking towards me. I somehow managed to stand, meeting him halfway. A smile fought it's way onto my face, disbelief coursing through me like blood in my veins.

" _Theo!_ "

That voice— that dumb, dumb voice. It had to snap me out of my daze.

I looked at the Gryffindor table, spotting the scared-looking boy instantly. Our gazes met for a second, and suddenly I understood what I had assumed was the work of some teacher, my father, and Dumbledore.

Harry Potter wrote my father. Begged him to stop me from entering. Tried to keep me from getting the glory I never went for before now. I shook my head, turning away from him. Cedric and I walked away, past the staff table and through the odd doorway behind it. On the way, Hagrid gave me a nod, smiling slightly.

I had just been chosen for what could be the biggest event of my life. I was a Champion. _I_ would be the hero for once.

I sat next to one Cedric by the fire, a smile growing on my face. My— my _friend_ shared the same look of joy, laughing as he leaned back. From across from us, the Durmstrang students stayed stoic, but the Beauxbatons girls were hiding smiles as the sat to our left.

"Merlin . . . " Was all I could muster, shaking my head with a short laugh.

Cedric nodded, leaning forward. "We just won the bloody lottery."

The six of us sat in a euphoric silence, too caught of in what we'd just gotten to think of what was to come. We were alone for only a minute of two when the door reopened, revealing a slouching figure.

"Potter?" I questioned, eyeing the confused-looking boy. "Have you come to try and trick me, again?"

The fourteen-year-old shook his head, looking at the ground.

"Do _zey_ want us back in _ze_ hall?" Delacour questioned, raising a perfectly-plucked eyebrow and tossing back her near-silver hair.

"I—I, uh. . . " He stammered, obviously unsure of what to say.

I scoffed, crossing one leg over another. The sound of footsteps was followed by the door opening once more, Ludo Bagman striding into the room, a large smile on his face. I rolled my eyes.

"Extraordinary! Absolutely extraordinary!" He shouted, patting Harry on the back. "Gentlemen, ladies, may I introduce— as incredible as it may seem —the _seventh_ Triwizard Champion?"

I stood, a scowl forming on my face as I stared between Bagman and Potter. "You've _got_ to be fucking with me!"


	8. Eight

_**THEO** _

_**~** _

**IT TOOK ONLY A** days for me to remember why I didn't draw positive attention to myself. Attention means people talking to me, patting me on the back, trying to get on my good side or be my friend. As far as I see it, Cedric is the only . . . _friend_ that I need. One was more than enough, especially when that friend is Diggory; the over-protective, much too-cheery, annoyingly-tall teenage boy that had been on overdrive the past week.

Today was he was even worse than usual.

All it took was one sneeze and a headache for him to be convinced I was sick. After seeing my hands— which were basically healed by now —the other day, I had been forced to disclose the classified information involving my rage-fest. That, combined with my potion incident on Halloween, ended with him watching me like a hawk. It figures, I was able to hide my injuries from Pompfrey— while basically blind —but I couldn't get past a Hufflepuff with a over-sized heart.

This morning, I found him waiting at the exit from the Dungeons, holding a black-and-yellow hat he would force me into not a minute later, claiming if I had been wearing a hat, I wouldn't have gotten a cold. Even though _I didn't have a cold_.

As we passed other students in the hall— him content and me angry, as I wore the knitted material —I noticed they all wore badges proudly. For a second, I thought it was for that _SPEW_ thing; something I thought ridiculous, seeing as the House Elves were paid as much as the school could get them to take.

But, they weren't badges supporting rights already in place. In bright letters, they read—

_SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY, THE_ **_REAL_ ** _HOGWARTS CHAMPION_

I snorted upon reading them, suspecting the Slytherin lower years had put them together to get at Potter. At least they didn't involve me. Munchkin Malfoy smirked as he walked past me, showing off his badge and pressing on it, changing the message.

_POTTER STINKS_

I snorted, noting the lack of subtlety. It managed to ease the pain of having to deal with Potter's existence only slightly. Unlike me, Harry didn't let things go; he was stubborn to a fault, and it made him act rashly. I had learned a long time ago that it was better to ignore the problem and move on from it; or plan a well-thought-out act of revenge that leaves the subject of your aggression in trouble and _your_ hands clean.

__

It took approximately two weeks for Pomfrey to get me a new pair of contacts and have them shipped to Hogwarts. Though I forgot easily I was wearing the rather ugly pair of spectacles, others didn't. Cedric would constantly pluck them off my face and clean them, seeing as I often didn't bother to do it myself. George had made it a habit to randomly push them up on the bridge of my nose when I attempted to read. And I'm sure Potter would've been comparing our glasses or something if he wasn't hiding from nearly everyone at Hogwarts.

It was almost comical how quickly everyone turned on the Boy Who Lived, ending with his sulking. In my opinion, he deserved it. Harry Potter had never struggled a day in his life, and it was time he learned the world didn't revolve around him.

He had attempted to talk to me once or twice since the Champions were chosen, but often got scared off by the flock of figurative hens clucking around me. The only time I got away from them was when I skipped meals to hide out in the usually empty Common Room. I had even started attending Prefect meetings just to get away from them all.

It was after lunch— spent in blissful silence eating a sandwich given to me by Bobbit earlier and reading some muggle book about _Demigods_ —that I was brought down from my state of peace. Shouts rang along the halls of the Dungeon, prompting me to hurry down the corridor. I found a group of Fourth Years waiting outside the Potions Room, the younger Malfoy brother and Perfect Potter at the center.

"What the hell is—"

My shout was interrupted by two screamed spells, jets of light shooting from both wands. " _Furnunculus!_ "

" _Densaugeo!_ "

The spells hit mid-air, bouncing off and missing their targets. I felt like Snape as I dove into the crowd, robes billowing and face scowling. It scared me a bit, but I pushed that aside as I assessed what these _idiots_ had done. Everyone with sense knows if you're going to duel, you should do it far away from teachers.

One of the Slytherins— _Goyle_ —let out a bellowing wail, large boils sprouting upon his face. The Gryffindor— who I recognized as Potter's little friend, _Granger_ —whimpered, covering her face. I kneeled next to Goyle, assessing his growing disfigurement. Looking towards Draco, I waved him to help the large boy up, shaking my head.

I turned towards the still-whimpering Granger girl, crouching next to her. I ignored Potter, prying her hands off of her face. Her teeth were growing and growing and _growing_ —

"S'not that bad," I muttered, head snapping towards the giggling Parkinson girl behind me. "Shut it, Parkinson. Or you'll wake up with a haircut tomorrow."

That shut up the little gaggle of girls, but I realized quickly _everyone_ was suddenly silent. I looked up, face dropping as I spotted Snape.

I hadn't talked to the Professor— besides answering questions he threw at me randomly during class —since I blew up and accused him of colluding with the enemy, aka, Sirius Black. I stood from the ground, brushing off my robes as I awkwardly stood.

"And what is all this noise about?" He questioned, voice deadly soft. The large amount of students clad in green clambered to explain, silenced as he pointed a long finger at me. "Explain."

I looked between the Fourth Years, not entirely sure of what had occurred. "I heard some shouting, when I got here, Mu— _Malfoy_ and Potter attacked each other. The spells hit and reflected onto Granger and Goyle. Both need to visit the Infirmary. _Sir_."

My voice was as blank as my face surely was, though I felt extremely awkward all of a sudden. Even though I hoped Snape had forgotten our exchange, I still felt embarrassed. I let too much show, and now I couldn't take it back.

My Head of House nodded after a moment, observing both of the injured Fourth Years. Upon seeing the ever-growing buck teeth of Granger, Snape made a comment that not even I would have said if not provoked. This prompted a string of profanities from the Weasley boy— who I guessed learned his vast colorful vocabulary from George, seeing as he swore the most out of all the Weasley's I had met —and from Potter. I fought an eye roll, wondering what use their drama had.

"Detention for Potter and Weasley, along with fifty points from Gryffindor. Now, get inside or it will be a weeks detention." Snape announced, dismissing the crowd.

I went to leave for my next class— that I was surely late for now —when the Professor stopped me. "Marx, escort Granger and Goyle to the Medical Wing. Your contacts have arrived as well."

I nodded, seeing no point in rushing to class anyways. All I had waiting for me was a set of annoying Twins and _learning_. "Sure, Professor."

As I retrieved my bag from where it had somehow fallen from my shoulder during the dramatics, the stone-faced man added another order. "And have Pompfrey check your hands while you're there. If not, you'll have detention all week."

I frowned, scoffing. "But—"

"I won't have your infected hands messing up my potions, Marx."

Sighing rather loudly, I threw my satchel-like bag over one shoulder, gesturing for the two Fourth Years to follow me. By now Goyle looked like a monster and Granger had teeth to her chest.

__

By the time I got to the Infirmary with both of the annoying fourteen-year-olds, class was a third of the way over. I was stuck sitting on one of the beds' edge, waiting for Pomfrey to give me my contacts and check my mostly-healed hands. Sure, it still stung every time I flexed, and the scabs were a _little_ gross-looking, but in my book, I was totally fine.

Once Granger's teeth were normal-looking, less _bucked_ then before even, and Goyle's face was just its normal ugliness, not boil-covered, it was my turn. Both children were released after getting lectured on safety a million times, leaving just me and the healer.

I offered an awkward look to the Healer as I pushed up my sleeves, revealing the reddened and already scarred hands I had been dealing with for the past few weeks. The woman _tsked_ , shaking her head. "You should have come in weeks ago, Theodosia. This is— Merlin, you stubborn child."

Ah, yes. The standard 'ask for help' speech. The Madame seemed convinced I didn't want to admit I was hurt. But, I wasn't about to try and explain the complex details of my family 'situation' to her, or anyone.

Dumping a heavy amount of some foul-smelling concoction onto my hands, she began retrieving bandages and such from a tray, muttering about my foolishness every few seconds. I blew hair from my face, annoyed. It was still black, seeing as I had no way of bleaching it again after Lee's dumb potion stole my hair job.

" . . . And now with you in this absurd contest, you'll be in here more than ever, I presume. Or you'll just bleed out rather than ask for help."

"I'll be fine." I groaned, flexing my freshly bandaged hand as she worked on the other. "I'll have Cedric breathing down my neck the whole time."

"This contest is— is _ridiculous_. Quidditch, Tournaments— it's— it's—"

"Blasphemous?" I offered, raising an eyebrow.

The woman nodded, finishing with my hands and rummaging around a drawer. Retrieving the glass containers holding my contacts— because apparently plastic isn't a _thing_ to the Madame —she handed the dark-colored vials to me, wagging a finger.

"Don't lose these, or you'll be stuck with glasses for the rest of the year. Understand?"

"Got it, ma'am," I responded, hopping off the bed. "Can I have a pass for—"

"Uh, excuse me?" A shy voice questioned, stepping into the Infirmary. "I—I was sent by Mr. Bagman?"

I raised an eyebrow, Pompfrey gesturing for her to continue. "I need you— Theodosia —for, uh, some— some pictures?"

Everything she said had a questioning tone, like the Second Year (I'm guessing) was asking us for confirmation. I shrugged, nodding goodbye to Pomfrey as I grabbed my bag. Class was surely mostly through, meaning I wouldn't be missing much more if I didn't go back now. Also, the kid looked like she was about to puke, and I'd rather she didn't. Even magic can't get rid of some smells.

__

When we reached our destination, I entered the room with confusion, spotting the other Champions. The small classroom's desks had been pushed aside, leaving the space mostly open as people milled around. I spotted Cedric next to Krum and strode towards him, raising an eyebrow in question.

"What's going on, Diggy?" I asked lightly, hands feeling better and making me feel a bit more relaxed.

I noticed the velvet-covered table with seats on either side, making more confused than ever. Cedric slung an arm around me— a new habit since the cold months had hit —and offered a smile. "Wand Weighing Ceremony, according to Fleur."

I noticed the silvery-blonde talking with her fellow female Champion, both near the other Durmstrang student, Romanov. I eyed Krum, offering a nod of recognition. "What's up, man?"

That prompted a confusing conversation between three differently accented people. Cedric constantly complained that I didn't _enunciate_ my words, making it more difficult for even Cedric to sometimes comprehend my normally fast-paced voice.

Suddenly Bagman cheered, the final _Champion_ entering the room. "Ah, the final Champion!"

I rolled my eyes, leaning into Cedric's arm and giving Potter a look of _done-ness_.

"Now, we will begin our Wand Weighing ceremony shortly, the judges will be here in just a moment—"

"Wand Weighing?" Potter _rudely_ interrupted.

"We have to check that your wands are fully functional; the expert's upstairs with Dumbeldore right now." Bagman's ever-wide smile creeped me out. He was too cheery, even as he gestured to the blonde lady at his side. "This is Rita Skeeter, she'll later be doing a little piece on the Tournament for the _Daily Prophet_ —"

"Well, maybe not _that_ little." She smiled, staring at us all creepily. From the two-inch-long hot pink nails, to the elaborate curls, to the crocodile-skin handbag she held with white knuckles, this woman screamed trouble. Or, at the very least, annoyance. "I was wondering if I could have a word with Mr. Potter before we begin? A moment with the youngest Champion?"

Bagman smiled even _wider_ , nodding quickly. "Of course, of course! Take your time!"

"Lovely," She smiled— no, _smirked_ —dragging Harry out of the room. I suddenly had a bad feeling.

I shook my head, deciding Potter could deal with his own troubles. Not a minute later, I hear muffled shouts from the cupboard the two had disappeared into, glancing at it every few seconds. "Just go check in on him, Dosie."

I glanced at Cedric, scoffing. "Why would I—"

"Make sure he doesn't ruin your reputation." He supplied an excuse, pushing me towards the cupboard gently.

Sighing, I strode towards the door, flinging it open. From inside, the two looked up at me, Skeeter throwing on a fake smile. "Theodosia Black! Please, join—"

"Don't mind if I do." I scoffed sitting next to Potter in the cramped space. "Please, _continue_."

Clearing her throat, the woman nodded. "Right. _Harry_ , do you think—"

"Oh, please, Ms. Skeeter. Ask me a question?" I asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Er . . . Theodosia, you— you are the cousin of Harry Potter and the daughter of the famous Auror Sirius Black. Is the need to prove yourself to your family the reason you entered the Tournament?"

I cocked my head, pretending to think. "No, I think it more had to do to George Weasley— that's W-E-A-S-L-E-Y -entering first. He's the biggest teacher's pet at Hogwarts; never a _single_ tardy, _spotless_ record, really just an all around . . . _goodie-good_. His younger siblings look up to him, despite his lack of good looks and wit. I strive to be like him."

From beside me, Potter fought a grin, looking anywhere but at Skeeter. Time to make up a bunch of shit so Skeeter seems unreliable. Good thing I loved lying. The blonde nodded, her _Quick-Quotes Quill_ surely exaggerating what I had said even further.

"The other Champion from Hogwarts is Cedric Diggory. My records say you two are great friends, maybe something more?"

"Cedric?" I asked, pretending to be appalled. "He's my cousin! My mom and his dad are siblings! Not to mention I've been in a serious relationship with Percy Weasley since last year!"

The woman's eyes widened, a million thoughts surely running through her head. "Oh _my_! I had no idea—"

"I would expect more from someone from the _Daily Prophet_." I acted offended, shaking my head.

"Apologies, let's move on, shall we?" She paused, gathering herself. "Back to your father, will he be supporting you two by coming to the Tasks? Or would his presence overshadow you, as it surely has before?"

"I have no clue what my father plans to do when the Tasks take place. I actually live in America when I'm not attending school." I paused to school my expression. "So, I never faced any shadow . . . I've never even met Sirius—"

"Oh, but haven't you?" The blonde woman smirked, digging out a photo from her purse. "This was last year, at Platform nine-and-three-quarters."

I looked down at the photograph, biting my lip. My act fell for just a moment.

__

_I think my heart stopped. I think it actually stopped. Like, my heart stopped beating, I'm dead, and now I'm just standing there dead, like an Infiri or something._

_But, I think his heart stopped too. Because, he didn't move. He didn't talk. All he did was stare at me, grey meeting grey. I had never seen him in person before, not that I remember at least. But, I knew it was him._

_I knew because I used to stare at his picture in the_ Daily Prophet _when I was in my first year. I read the various articles about all of them; James and Lily Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black. Childhood friends turned heroes of the Wizarding World. The Potter's had a legacy within his son, Harry, who killed You-Know-Who when he was just a baby. Already, many thought he would be the greatest Wizard of his generation. Remus Lupin has his apprentices and spreads his legacy through his book— The Comprehensive Guide to Lycanthropy._

 _Nothing was said about the family of Sirius. Before I started at Hogwarts, I doubted even Dumbledore knew I existed. But, his friends— his_ family _—had to have known, right? Because, Remus was named my Godfather. Mother said so when raging about something or other, yelling that she wished my 'deadbeat father' or 'Lycan of a Godfather' would come take me away, free her from me._

_I didn't spot Remus as I looked at the group of adults. Last I heard, he was in Spain or Russia or something looking into something for the Ministry. That was a while ago. My curiosity died not long after it bloomed._

_But, while my Godfather wasn't there— with_ him _, the Potter's were. Lily Potter was staring into my soul, I was sure, but I was barely focused, those grey eyes I had inherited boring holes in my forehead. Between the two, an oblivious James Potter looked for his son._

_After sixteen years of being alone, my father was only twenty feet away. Waiting for a kid who wasn't me. He wasn't here for me, I realized. He never would be._

_Harry walked into the imaginary frame, James Potter wrapping him in a hug, grinning widely. A father and his child. My own looked away from my eyes, cocking his head at the too-big leather jacket I wore over my button-down and shorts. After a moment, he moved on from it, zeroing on the green tie slipping out of the satchel-like bag I used for school. His face twitched, and I suddenly remembered that he was a Gryffindor, like everyone in his little family._

Slytherin _. Bad. I was bad to him. Evil. I could tell by the way he tensed further, the way his eyes narrowed a bit. It was a look I had been given many times at school; especially from Gryffindors. Distrust, uneasiness._

_And suddenly, the spell was broken. I shoved the tie into my bag, turning and ducking back onto the train. Adults weren't supposed to go on the train without approval, so for a second, I felt safe. I still had to retrieve my trunk and get out safely, but, for just a moment, I was away from him. And I could think clearly._

_I had just seen the man responsible for half of me. The guy who ran off when my mother was pregnant and left me to be subjected to french lessons and dresses and other much worse things for so long. The coward who_ abandoned _me. He abandoned me._

__

I remembered that day clearly, but I had no recollection of any reporter being present. I didn't think . . . I thought only Potter would care about that day. In the picture, Sirius and I were ten feet apart, our forms near-frozen as we looked at each other. I noticed the three Potter's staring at me from behind _him_. I felt cold, wondering why anyone would care about that awful memory. Judging by the smirk on Skeeter's face, _she_ did.

"I wouldn't call seeing him on the Platform meeting him. We didn't exchange a word. It was a twenty-second exchange, nothing more." Rather than handing the picture back, I folded it and shoved it inside my jacket's pocket. My hard work seemed to be going down the drain, I had to think quick. "Isn't it against regulations for people of the media to be present on the Platform for work? Or to take pictures of one without her or her parent's consent? Ms. Skeeter?"

"I—"

"Can we be done? If you wanted an interview on Sirius and the Potter's, you would be sitting down with _them_. And harassing two students will surely get you banned from the grounds. I suspect the Ministry would be upset to find out you _stalked_ a student before forcing a fourteen-year-old boy into a broom cupboard."

Deciding to be wise for once, the crazed woman stood, clearing her throat. I nodded, leaving the crazed woman behind, Potter following. I sighed in relief as we returned to the others, nearly everyone sitting. Sitting next to Cedric, I shook my head at his questioning gaze, mouthing _'later'_. He picked a cobweb from my hair, offering a light smile.

__

As the ceremony began, I made sure to keep my expression blank and . . . not _mean-looking_ , as Cedric _affectionately_ calls it. Delacour was called up first, practically _floating_ around the room as she gave the Wand Maker her _magic-stick_. I rolled my eyes as she name-dropped her Veela ' _grandmuzzer'_ with a smile. I didn't miss the smile she gave Cedric as she returned to her seat.

After the next Beauxbaton delegate, the Durmstrang boys took their turns as well. Cedric was after that, stepping forward with a smile. I cocked my head, sitting up a bit. Cedric took great pride in his belongings— from his Broom Stick to his favorite sweater —and polished his wand bi-weekly.

"Ah, now this is one of mine, isn't it?" The old man smiled, nodding to himself as Cedric handed over his wand. "Yes, I remember it well. Containing the hair of a particularly stubborn male unicorn . . . nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches . . . ash . . . springy. It's in fine condition, you treat it regularly?"

Cedric beamed, nodding once more. "Polished it last night."

I glanced done at the various nicks on my own wand, scarred as my hands from years of violence. As he returned Cedric's wand to its owner, my own name was called. I stood from the table, my hand low-fiving Cedric's as we passed each other by. _Dork_.

The old man didn't smile when he saw my wand. He looked from my bandaged hands to the beat-up wand, and gave a curt nod. "Another one of my creations. Chesnut . . . Dragon Heartstring . . . twelve and . . . three- quarters in length . . . quite bendy."

He looked up at me for just a second. I chewed on my lip.

"In decent condition, though in need of some polish." He cast some muttered spell, a spurt of water shooting from the end.Nodding yet again, he returned my wand, dismissing me. I rolled my eyes as I returned to my seat, tucking my wand back into my robes. Like most things in my life, the Ceremony was _uneventful_.

__

It took way too long to leave that room for dinner. The giant of a woman, Madame Maxime, cast a shadow on everything; Skeeter kept dragging Potter into the limelight, while the photographer did the same to Delacour; I almost fell asleep, laying my head on Cedric's shoulder, until Skeeter ordered me in front of him and Romanov, saying I was too short to be in the back. After the group photos, she ordered individual shots, which took another eternity.

When it was my turn, I refused to smile. _Refused_. Despite Skeeter's various attempts, I simply stood, arms crossed, staring at the camera. I was _tired_ and _annoyed_ , and I felt like being difficult. We ended up showing up to dinner twenty minutes late. Despite the rules, I sat next to Cedric at his table, too tired to deal with the dozens of questions thrown towards me during each meal. Instead, I lazily ate my food, laying my head on Cedric's surprisingly comfortable shoulder as I poked at my scraps.

The day had been too long, and I was ready for bed.

__

When dinner finally ended, Cedric was cocking his head at me, offering to walk me to my Common Room. Insisting I would be fine, I bid the copper-haired boy farewell, only half paying attention as I walked down the steps.

Surprise, surprise, I made it to my dorm without getting murdered.

To be fair, Cedric wasn't being nearly as mama-bear-ish as he had been the year before.

__

_Everyone was gathered in the Great Hall, rows of sleeping bags filling the large room in place of the tables. Apparently, Peter Pettigrew— an escapee from Azkaban —was spotted on the school's grounds. I had fallen asleep in the library when Filch found me. The child-hating man half-dragged me to the Great Hall, screaming about my 'disobedience' the entire time._

_Now, I was sitting on Cassius' sleeping bag, the blonde next to me, digging through his bag for pajamas. The blonde had been smart enough to bring extra clothes -unlike me. Coming up with a baggy green shirt and boxers, I was faced with a choice. Suffer in tights and a skirt, or wear —thankfully clean —boxers._

_Deciding the pros outweighed the cons, I made Cassius and —after some shouting— Draco make a human shield as I changed. But, just as I shoved my school clothes into Cassius' bag, A pair of arms_ lifted _me off the ground._

_Apparently, Cedric had been looking for me since he arrived in the hall an hour ago. He practically forced me to sleep in the sleeping bag next to his, and tailed me for a week afterward. I called him a stalker, told him to shove off, used all the explicit language and gestures I knew— but he refused to leave me alone._

__

It was stupid for me to think I could have five minutes of peace before I went to bed. After dodging everyone in the Common Room, I thought I was in the clear as I flopped on my bed. Instead, two of my roommates decided to ambush me.

I flinched upon seeing Ivy and Kia standing at the foot of my bed. "Can I help you, ladies?"

"You've been invited to Cassius' next party. You will be in attendance—"

"Says who?" I questioned, sitting up. Cassius was known to throw gala-like parties every once in a while, but I avoided them as much as I could. While Cassius himself wasn't . . . too bad, other Teenagers could become . . . bad people after a few glasses of Firewhiskey.

"You may have gotten away with your . . . _indiscretions_ in the past, but things have changed." Kia shook her head, sighing. "You represent all of Slytherin now, and you need to start acting like it."

"You can borrow _this_ for the party," I rolled my eyes, ready to refuse as Ivy gestured to a dress. "It's the most comfortable dress between Kia and mine's wardrobes."

I stared at the contraption, memories surfacing of being forced into fluffy, itchy, _tight_ dressed differently to that one. The _dress_ was green— _of course_ —and had a high neck. It wasn't too short, knee-length I think. For Kia and Ivy, anything past mid-thigh made you a nun, so I was slightly surprised at the sight of such a modest-seeming dress. That didn't mean I would wear it.

I narrowed my eyes, kicking off my boots. " _No._ No way in hell am I going to wear such a pro-patriarchal death trap such as—"


	9. Nine

_**THEO** _

_**~** _

**AFTER YEARS OF DEALING** with me, you would think my roommates had more sense than to goad me into anything. They _clearly_ didn't. Here I was, hair pinned back painfully, dress on, makeup done. The girls of my nightmares were flirting with whatever male gaze they attracted, leaving me alone for once.

Cassius had disappeared into a corner with some girl and neither Flint nor Adrian were insight. My so-called roommates were all flirting with various boys, only the Pure-blooded _of course._ After prior _awful_ experiences hexing drunken fools, I had learned better than to be alone at a Slytherin party. People liked to drink, no matter what house it seemed. A few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were inside the Room of Requirement— a clever place Cassius had discovered our second year —with the mostly Slytherin crowd, food served and music humming.

The worst thing about one of Cassius' parties was his rule about coming and going; you came within a half an hour of dinner ending and couldn't leave before midnight. That way, if you got caught and Filch found the party, at least it had lasted a while. That rule was one of the reasons I avoided Cassius' parties. Spending hours at a time forced to watch teens swap spit and pretend that they could dance— it wasn't something that interested me whatsoever.

Still, as the ambassador of Slytherin or _whatever_ , I was forced to be in the public eye, it seemed. And not even my lack of patience and possible anger issues could keep me from this travesty tonight. My chest felt tight and at this point, I didn't know if it was from the dress or something else.

I could feel my years of street cred washing down the drain, like dirt after a Quidditch match. It made me want to start a fight. And after seeing Potter and his little friends sneaking in, I got an idea of who the perfect target would be.

Striding past the trio, I sent a glare towards the Weasley twins. After seeing their younger brother and realizing fighting a couple of Fourth Years would just make me look like an idiot, Fred was the next best option.

I got in the redhead's face, well, I tried to— seeing as everyone at this school seemed to be freakishly gigantic. The annoyance's brother wriggled his eyebrows, claiming he was going to go get a drink.

George offered me a grin, unfazed by my scowl. "Hello, love—"

"You are the most— most— the biggest _jackass_ that I've ever met, George Weasley!" I announced, fumbling over my words as I struggled to find an insult. I hated this. _Hated_ it.

All of a sudden— it seemed —everyone was just walking all over me. Forcing me into hats and dresses and messing with my glasses— Like I was some invalid who couldn't take care of myself! Like I hadn't been taking care of myself for the past _sixteen_ years!

And yet, even facing me looking as pissed off as can be, George just raised an eyebrow. "You're very cute when you're angry, my love."

A noise of discontent left my lips, a huff of built of anger coursing through me. Still, that _annoyance_ just smiled at me, oblivious or just uncaring. I turned on my heel, moving as far from him as I could get. My attempt at fighting had failed, and now I needed to regroup.

Thinking I was too sober to be this angry and _not_ punch anyone, I wondered if I should get a drink— take the edge off or something —before all the good stuff was gone and only pumpkin juice and _punch_ was left. However, around an hour into the party, I knew that was incredibly stupid. But, by hour two of the party, I had already downed three shots and was drinking a cup of spiked punch that tasted like gasoline.

I felt numb, like I was in a dream or something. All my anger faded away as I drank more and more. I suspected something _magical_ was in the punch I was drinking, but by then I didn't care. Or maybe I was just too. . . _impaired_ to realize at the time.

To be frank, the rest of the night was a blur.

_I remember dancing with someone . . . probably Cassius or Adrian— who I couldn't remember seeing . . ._

_I think someone was singing the School Song . . . and at some point, I was lifted onto someone's shoulders . . ._

I wasn't sure how I got from _that_ to my bed, but that's where I was when I woke up that Saturday morning. Well, _afternoon_.

My shoes were off, make-up itching my face, and my awful black hair was a tangle of hairpins and curls. I laid in bed for a half-hour before managing to get up, head pounding painfully. For some reason, there were white bandages on my left hand— I later discovered my palm had been cut in a few places and my knuckles were bruised slightly. _Just after they healed, too._

It took me five minutes just to half-crawl to the bathroom, where I proceeded to puke out my intestines, lungs, and everything I had ever consumed. After that train-wreck, I sat in the shower for nearly forty-five minutes before managing to strip off my clothes and actually _turn on_ the faucet.

Many more disgusting, painful things happened in the next few hours. Afterward, I wanted to kill Kia, but I was too tired to do so. So, I suffered in my bed instead, covering myself in blankets— some of which I may have taken from my roommates —and sleeping on and off for the majority of the day.

And on top of that, I think I had a cold.

__

The door slamming open almost killed me. The loud bang it made, followed by a monster's screaming, awoke me from a much-needed nap. And then the Devil herself decided to _steal_ my blankets, exposing me to the harsh glare of . . . nighttime.

I rolled over, shoving my face into a pillow and waiting for Kia to leave me alone. However, she couldn't be bothered to leave me to my misery. "Theodosia! _Theodosia_ _Elizabeth Jameson_ _Marx-Black_!"

"That _is_ my name, unfortunately." I huffed, voice muffled by the pillow I was slowly suffocating myself with.

"What the _hell_ did you _do?_ " She squawked, pulling my pillow out from under me. "Getting _shitfaced_ at Cassius' party! Fighting! Even after all the work we—"

"You poked," I mumbled, sitting up with a glare.

Kia raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow, looking at me in disdain. " _What_?"

" _You_ poked. You provoked me. You dressed me up like a doll and then left me to the wolves!" I hissed, still-damp hair flying in my face, my vision spinning.

"I didn't think you needed babysitting, Theodosia." She shook her head, looking at herself in the closest mirror. "Besides, you've made it _explicitly_ clear that you'd rather be with that —admittedly hot —Hufflepuff than someone of your own house."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "I'd just rather surround myself with people who don't work their way to the top by sucking—"

Something hard hit my face, a sting of pain radiating from my forehead. I looked in confusion at the brush now laying on the ground, a scowl on my face. "What the _hell?_ "

Head snapping up, I barely caught sight of Kia's long blonde locks as she slammed the door of our Dorm, leaving my bed stripped and taking my comfort with her.

Feeling better than I had earlier— by only a bit —my stomach decided to forage for food. After skipping dinner the night before and missing two meals today, I was thoroughly famished.

Of course, while I couldn't look absolutely fine— _seeing as I was 'sick' if anyone asked_ —I also wasn't about to go in my _Fitchburg Finches_ sweatshirt and a pair of ratty shorts I'd had since second year. Then again, changing just to come back up and change into the same thing seemed like a waste of time.

__

I suspected dinner was halfway over when I finally got to the Great Hall, my robe buttoned and hiding my pajama-clad self, along with my bare feet. Because, clearly I'm an idiot who wants to get sick— . . . _sicker_.

By the time I snuck my way inside— which was hard when the only doors inside are _humongous_ , I was willing to kill a Malfoy to get to the roast beef. Even Cassius. _Especially_ Draco.

I sat next to Cassius, ignoring the part of the table where Kia always sat. I didn't even bother getting myself food, just stabbing a fork full of precisely cut food from the plate belonging to the Malfoy I was willing to murder not two seconds before.

"Finally decide to show your face, Doe?"

I fought the urge to glare at Ivy, swallowing my stolen food before helping myself to more. A fork ready next to my mouth, I raised an eyebrow, keeping my face as neutral as possible. I had surely lost enough dignity last night, not that I could remember _any_ of it past the fourth drink. From now on, it had to be all cold stares and _no_ emotional outbursts.

"After what you did last night, I'm surprised you haven't transferred yet," She taunted, a smirk settling on her face. "I mean, you'd think the Goblet might've chosen a Champion more . . . _worthy_ of the title."

I simply chewed my food, staring at her. Clearing my throat as I finished, I offered only a few words. It was high time I returned to who I was supposed to be. "How's your _mom_ , Ivy?"

The girl paled instantly, mouth opening slightly. Ivy's mom was a ministry worker, a lower-level employee who worked with muggles on a daily bases. While Ivy herself showed hate towards muggles, the same as most others, her mother was a fan of them. And she had kept that secret for all these years. Of course, one or two misplaced letters and I held the ax over her head.

The obnoxious girl shut up quickly after that, returning her gaze to her plate with a small _squeak._ I turned to Cassius, figuring he was the one who had taken me back to the dorm after the party. "Thanks for taking me back to the dorms, _Assius_."

"The hell are you talking about?" The blond questioned, cocking his head. "You were gone before I left."

I looked around the table, eyes stopping at Adrian. "Pucey, then?"

"He was consoling his sister half the night," Flint mentioned from a few seats down. "Apparently, the princess got her heartbroken."

 _That explains the anger earlier_.

"Whatever, I probably took myself back and just don't remember."

Flint snorted. "Merlin, Marx, you must've really been plastered if you don't remember your little _lover boy_."

I half-choked on a piece of bread, whipping my head towards Flint. " _What_?"

"Marx, you missed all of your classes," A new voice suddenly interrupted. "Running around with the animals again?"

"I was sick, professor. Ask Ivy, she'll tell you," I explained ( _lied_ ) smoothly, gesturing to the still-pale girl, who furiously nodded.

"She was in bed all day, sir. Threw up all over."

"Was there anything else, professor?" I dared, looking up at him.

Holding out a permission slip, I felt my eyes widen slightly. "Your . . . _father_ approved of you going to Hogsmeade."


	10. Ten

**_THEO_ **

**_~_ **

**_I NEVER THOUGHT IT_ ** _would be this way; that I would ever feel so much hate towards anyone, let alone so many people. My father was always a sore subject, sure. But, I didn't always want him to want me, not so much anyways. For a little while when I was younger, I thought having a mother was more than enough. Before she got so bitter and I got so broken._

_She used to paint. My mom. Not often, but every once in awhile, on a rainy Sunday when there was nothing to do, she would take out her brushes and big canvases, and she would paint for hours and hours. I would sometimes join her, usually ending up with paint on my face and in my hair. But most of the time, I just liked to watch her._

_One time, she painted me. Her hair, for once down and falling down her back, was golden under the yellow lights, so pretty. I remember wondering why my hair couldn't be pretty like that. Instead, it was often a curly mane that couldn't be tamed._

_For that painting, she had braided my at-the-time long hair back and I wore a puffy purple dress. Back then, it felt more like dress-up than a chore. I felt more like a princess than a doll._

_But, for some reason, that all changed a bit after my eighth birthday._

_I didn't know why, but my mother became colder and harsher after that. Granted, she had never had the most patience, but after that she had none. Everything that I did was wrong. And she stopped painting._

_I found a letter the next summer, as I was helping unpack her office in our newest house. A letter fell from a dusty book I dropped, wrinkled and torn a bit. It was from my father, dated a year before. He called my mother some bad things. Called me a mistake. I didn't have a chance to finish reading when the paper was snatched from my hands._

_That was the first time my mother slapped me._

_After that, I realized my father had something to do with my mother's . . . changes. It soon got so very twisted and the truth probably blended with lies. But I never forgot how my mom used to paint. Or how after he wrote to her, she stopped._

__

I woke up not with a gasp or a shout that morning, but with a sniffle. Whatever cold-and-hangover-induced coma I had fallen into that night left me feeling weak and out of control. I hated it; especially since lately everything I did seemed to be the wrong move. I felt like a different person each day. Sometimes I hated everyone and other times all I could think of was how big of an ass I was being to people who . . . _cared_ about me for some reason.

In all honesty, that morning, I wanted to cry.

It's been two weeks since Snape relayed the news from my father. I don't think I've slept well one night since. I mean, usually, it's hard to fall asleep when I haven't had practice or I drank a lot of pumpkin juice at dinner. But, this was different. Instead of random nightmares of tsunamis and elephants, my nights were filled with memories from when I was younger; things I hadn't thought about in years.

Like, I had this stuffed bear when I was younger. Really little, like five or six. It was missing an eye and had a tear on its stomach, but I took it with me everywhere. And then, mom decided I was too old for it or something and threw it out. And— and I remembered cutting my hand digging through the trash for it, but being unable to find it.

And while I could barely remember the bear— if it had a name, or when I got it —I felt completely and utterly _gypped._ It was _my_ fricking bear.

But, instead of being allowed to stew in my sudden rush of anger, I was forced to get up early than my roommates. I had Prefect Duty in the Great Hall before Hogsmeade, some random assignment given my Dumbledore the day before.

I had showered and woken myself up before the sun rose, but I couldn't seem to find my gloves. A random blue shirt was already on and tucked into my jeans— _cause it was fricking freezing and I hate skirts_ —and my boots were secured onto my feet over the thickest socks I owned. I even had my leather jacket on over a thin grey hoodie, along with a yellow-and-black hat that Cedric may have made me keep. My hair was too short to pull back, so I did my best to keep it controlled under the hat, memories of hair whipping me in my face coming to mind.

But, while the rest of me was totally ready to beat winter's _ass_ , my hands were bare and in need of my fur-lined, leather gloves I had gotten last Christmas from Cedric. I was nearly late when I finally found the brown hand-warmers at the bottom of my trunk, under an old herbology textbook from Second year I _somehow_ still had.

I half-ran to the Great Hall, flying inside just as Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak. Normally, I wouldn't have really cared, but after getting hammered and skipping a whole day of class, I decided to toe the line a bit.

" _Uh_ , sorry, sir," I muttered, walking to stand next to Flint.

Diggory raised an eyebrow from where he stood diagonally from me in the semi-circle of students and the Headmaster. I shrugged, turning to look at Dumbledore as the old geezer began to explain why we had to get up at the _butt crack_ of dawn.

"As you all know, the First Task is approaching very quickly. Now, Mr. Diggory and Miss Black—" I glowered, but stayed quiet. "—are exempted from this, but the rest of you are expected to help with the preparations."

_Then why the hell did I have to get up?_

"However, all of you will be required to take on extra responsibilities; such as keeping an eye out for the younger students today at Hogsmede . . . and patrolling after curfew a few nights a week for the rest of the year. I'm afraid Mr. Filch cannot do it all."

_Oh._

"What about winter break?" One of the Ravenclaw Prefects, whose name I couldn't remember, questioned. "Surely you don't expect us to stay here?"

Dumbledore was silent for a moment, clearly sensing the overall distaste from us eight. I, however, was pleased. Usually, I was forced home for Winter Break by my mother. But, surely she couldn't fault her Prefect for a daughter if she was forced by the school to stay. I fought a smile as the Headmaster finally confirmed my hopes.

"I'm afraid you _will_ be required to stay on the grounds during the Winter break. I apologize for any inconvenience, but we will need . . . "

I tuned out the rest of Dumbledore's speech, noting the crestfallen look on Cedric's face. I sighed, at a loss. I didn't know what to do. Until, I did.

"What if less than . . . five people from each house stay?" I questioned, interrupting whatever the old man was saying. "Surely the staff can watch over twenty students?"

Typically, less than that stayed for break. Or, at least, that's what I had heard. Hopefully, I was right. Even if it meant I had to go home.

Dumbledore stared at me for a moment, for some reason at a loss. I dared to raise an eyebrow. "I guess my _cousin_ really is right about the school's incompetence. Maybe I'll write Lucius tonight about it. I'm sure the Ministry would get a kick out of you banning us from leaving—"

"Very well, Miss _Black_." The withered man sighed. "You may all return home for winter break, but you will be required to return . . . three days early to help with the arrival back."

I smirked, but that turned into a small smile as I saw Cedric's grin. _Worth it_.

__

It was many hours later that I was walking around Hogsmeade for the first _approved_ time. Cedric had a date with Cho Chang I wouldn't dare interrupt, seeing as he'd been pining after her since Second year. Adrian and Flint weren't approved to go, and Cassius was with his little brother. They were shopping for Christmas gifts for their parents.

I was fine going by myself, until I got lost. Then, next to a bar called the Hog's Head, I finally accepted help from a certain redhead.

Fred Weasley and I had never had direct contact with each other when George was not around. I had heard on numerous occasions his twin brother claiming he would marry me and that Fred would be the flower girl, but other than that, we didn't really interact. That being said, he was my best offer so far.

"So . . . " The redhead started as we walked, cocking his head at me. "You fall in love with my brother yet?"

I choked on air, whipping my head towards the now-laughing teenager. "Wait to ease into shit, Weasley."

" _Eh_ ," Was his response, a smirk on his face. "It's pretty obvious you like him—"

"What makes you say that? The lack of a smile on my face?" I questioned, snorting.

"You're the one who said so. At the party. Granted, it was after one too many shots, and my dear brother did have to carry you to your _friend_ , but . . . "

My face dropped and I stopped walking. _Surely_ , he was joking. I still had my . . . gaps from the party, but I distinctly remember _green_ -clad arms half-dragging me to my room. I stared at the less-annoying of the two Weasley twins, wondering if I had somehow mistaken him for his brother. This was a George thing to do; wait until a vulnerable moment, like when I was lost, and then make up some lie.

But, I knew that wasn't true just by looking at him. Only twice had I ever mistaken them for each other, both in First year when I barely paid attention to _anyone_. While the two were nearly identical, George's eyes held something . . . different. And he had this scar on his neck, from where a exploded glass nicked him. He had three freckles more on his left ear, and his cheeks got red more easily.

No, this was Fred. What I couldn't get was why he would say those things.

I started walking once more, noticing a familiar face inside the Post Office. Fred simply let me go, furthermore showing he was _not_ his brother. I shook my head, nearly freezing as I noticed a small rodent scampering into a frozen bush. My face wrinkled in disgust, the ugly creature thoroughly grossing me out.

I _hated_ rats.


	11. Eleven

_**THEO** _

_**~** _

**MY HANDS WOULDN'T STOP** shaking. Since waking up from a restless sleep early this morning, the annoying devices had yet to lay still. All day, I had been hiding out in the Potions classroom. Somehow, it had passed my mind completely that Snape had excused me from my classes that day to help him with some complex potion. It was for the Third years, and I was tasked with being an assistant.

It was nearly fun, despite needing to wear my glasses (the fumes stung my eyes too much) and the greasy texture my hair had by lunch. Mostly, I was helping annoying children and hearing them call me ' _Medusa'_. Because I could turn anyone to stone with one glare. I liked it.

It reassured me that nobody noticed the shakiness of my hands or when my voice broke every once in a while. Still, this overpowering feeling that something _bad_ was going to happen was overwhelming.

I was dismissed before dinner began, but it ended up taking half the meal for me to get my hair back to normal, so I spent the time in my bathroom with cramping fingers and pruney toes. When I finally was content with the outcome, I left for the Great Hall in pajama shorts and a large t-shirt, my jacket over it. I was far too tired to care about my slipper-clad feet or the droplets of water of the glasses I still wore.

I sat next to Cedric, ignoring the rules because— although I would never tell him —I just really needed a friend at the moment. And he was my only one.

My fellow Champion was the opposite of me at the moment; his uniform was nearly perfect, hair messy in a way that seemed to be by design, and a bright grin was painted across his face. He said nothing in question of why I was joining him or wearing pajamas, just grinned further and threw an arm around my shoulder.

I felt calm for the first time all day.

Until an annoyance showed up, camera in hand.

"Picture? Picture for—"

"Sure, kid." Cedric beamed, pulling me up.

I opened my mouth to protest, but the puppy-dogged look he sent me made my cold heart melt just a little bit. I sighed, letting him stand me in front of him, arms wrapping around my shoulders. I looked up with him, sending the unbelievably tall boy a grin. I couldn't help it, his smile was contagious. He was a disease and I was infected.

A bright flash signaled the picture had been taken, the light blinding me for a second. Blinking the spots from my eyes, I watched as the small child scurried away with a grin. I snorted, rolling my eyes as Cedric and I separated.

Dinner was nearly over, and I was ready for bed. I looked to the copper-haired boy in question, gesturing towards the doors. "You wanna sneak into my dorm? Kia will sleep until noon if she has the chance, and the others all won't say _shit_."

"Actually, I have a better idea," He offered another blinding grin, pulling me by the hand outside the Hall.

Ducking through halls and away from teachers, we soon found ourselves outside a very familiar place.

__

The Room of Requirement was _not_ empty when we arrived. Instead, surprisingly, four other people were lounging on beds in the large room. Six lay around the room, blankets and pillows galore. I raised an eyebrow, recognizing the Champions from Durmstang and Beauxbatons.

"What's going on?" I looked at Cedric in confusion. "Are we having a _slumber party_?"

"Spot on, Dosie. Pick a bed."

I just stood there, staring at the five teenagers who decided to have a sleepover". "Are you serious? We're— we're _rivals_. Tomorrow we compete against each other—"

"But _tonight_ , ve party," One of the two french girls smiled. I couldn't remember which was which anymore.

"Yeah, right." I scoffed, turning around to leave.

I really was going to go. I _was_. But then—

" _Dosie_ . . . "

I couldn't.


	12. Twelve

_**THEO** _

_**~** _

**I FELT LIKE I** was getting ready for a funeral. Specifically, my own. I decided against showering, just changing into the uniform-like outfit I had been given for the task. A black and green shirt clung to me like a second skin, the same as the pants, my sweat making it itch. I was wearing sneakers for once instead of my usual boots, and I felt shorter than ever. Over the slightly-uncomfortable shirt, I zipped my leather jacket all the way. It was cold out and I wanted to cling to what warmth was available.

The stands were surely packed to the brim when I arrived. I could hear the cheers and hollering from inside the Champion's Tent, where Cedric and I sat in silence. For once, the talkative boy was quiet, and I seemed to be out of sarcastic comments. Across the room, the other delegates sat in similar positions, all of us quiet. It seemed so crazy that just last night I was having a _freaking_ sleepover (against my will, of course) with all of them.

Suddenly, my lack of preparation felt incredibly dumb. We didn't even know what the Task was, not yet. All I had was my wand and Cedric. For weeks, I had just been getting drunk and fighting with myself, when I could've been planning. I felt like an idiot. No, worse. I felt like a _Gryffindor._

The last to arrive finally showed just minutes before the Task began. With bedhead and discomfort, Harry walked towards the group of us Champions. His oblivious self actually noticed something for once; the glares given to him by five of the six Champions, myself included. Cedric just offered an awkward half-smile, but nothing more.

Harry looked to me, receiving nothing but a scowl.

It wasn't until the night before that I had seen the Daily Prophet article about _us_. In it, nearly everyone but Harry was left out. Normally, I wouldn't mind being left out of the lime light, but this time, although _I_ wasn't described, some alternate version of myself was.

_THE BOY WHO LIVED NOW FACES A NEW TASK. TOGETHER WITH HIS COUSIN, THEODOSIA J. BLACK (DAUGHTER OF THE FAMOUS AUROR SIRIUS BLACK). THE DUO REPRESENTS HOGWARTS IN THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT. POTTER CLEARLY TAKES AFTER HIS PARENTS, THE FAMED LILY AND JAMES POTTER, WHILE BLACK SEEMS TO BE THE SPITTING IMAGE OF HER FATHER. POTTER DEFEATED YOU-KNOW-WHO AT . . ._

It only got worse from there. Skeeter went on to describe Harry and his _epic life,_ as though there weren't already a million stories just like it. This one painted _me_ as some damsel needing her cousin to save her, when in reality it was probably the opposite. Seeing it made me sick.

I looked away from Potter, towards the nervous Cedric. I held out my hand, trying my best to look determined. "You and me, right?"

"You and me, Dosie." He confirmed with a nod, lacing our fingers tightly together.

__

It all flew by in a blur.

As soon as we stepped out, the dragon whipped towards us, looking at us like we were it's next meal. My friend and I were as ready as we could be, our wands out and brains racing for a plan. Looking towards me, Cedric let out a shaky breath, having to shout over the crowd.

"I'll distract it!" He called idiotically, "You get the egg!"

Before I could stop him, the copper-haired boy was running in front of the _dragon._ Cursing, I had no choice but to run along the edge of the arena behind it. Flames shout from the beast's mouth as steamed poured from it's nose. I would be thankful it faced away from me, but it had it's gaze locked onto Cedric. I had to work quick.

Nearly tripping over myself, I half-dove onto the nest, minding the eggs. Heaving up the golden egg, I rolled off the nest, glancing back at Cedric. Just as my eyes found his, a jet of fire licked his arm. I gasped, resisting a shout.

As Cedric fell, the dragon turned towards me.

After that, it got crazy.

I don't recall what I cast in the heat of that moment, but somehow my adrenaline-filled brain managed to block the flames. My hands felt hot and I felt the heat press against me, _just_ missing me. With a yelp of victory, I ran. Sliding under it's legs like the baseball players I used to mimic as a kid, I met up with Cedric, who was back on his feet.

I tried my best to ignore the nasty looking burn on his arm, the egg still in my arms. An unintelligible yell left my mouth and the two of us began running for safety. The next thing I knew, I was in a medic tent, ignoring the many healers trying to 'help' me.

My pants were ripped down one shin, a bloody mess of scratches appearing. I was used to injuries like them after years pretending I was a MLB player. I just wanted to know where my jacket was, when I would get food, and if Cedric was horribly injured. Though, his creative cursing from behind the partition were reassuring.

Still, the group of Healers insisted on 'helping' me. It wasn't until Cedric finally shouted at _me_ through the curtain that I gave in, somewhat begrudgingly. They cut off my pants from the knee down, the blood-soaked material going straight into the trash. I was flat-out trapped as they disinfected and bandaged and mended all of my shallow injuries, laying back on the cot with an arm was thrown over my eyes. Right now, the other Champions were competing, cheers and shouts from the crowd giving me a headache. I tried to block everything out, failing miserably.

Especially when _he_ barged in.


	13. Thirteen

**_THEO_ **

**_~_ **

**_"PLEASE, OF COURSE I'M_ ** _allowed inside!" His voice boomed through the tent._

_I sat in silence, staring at the famous man making his way inside. James Potter stood in the Medical Tent of the Triwizard Tournament, wearing a look of something I couldn't place. I bit the inside of my cheek, blinking in confusion. His son had yet to compete, so I assumed he was simply in the wrong tent._

_But, his eyes locked with mine and suddenly he was next to me, grimacing down at the sight of my nearly-bandaged legs. I swallowed, at a loss for words, and utterly confused._

_"What are you doing?" I questioned, my voice more shaky than I wanted it to be._

_The man who fathered an annoyance offered an awkward smile. "Sirius thought I should come and check on you, make sure you're—"_

_"He's here?"_

_The breath left me as James nodded. "We saw the nasty scrapes you got, and then heard some shouting—"_

_"These idiots were overreacting," I growled, gesturing to the group of Healers now outside the suddenly barren tent. "It's just a couple of cuts—"_

_"Doesn't look like it." A new voice echoed throughout the make-shift room._

_I nearly ran from the tent as he walked towards me. But, my body seemed to have shut down on me and I was stuck in place. Staring with uncontrollably wide-eyes, I looked at the older brother of the bane of my exsistance._

_"Hey, Doe," Charlie Weasley greeted with a grin. "Nice job out there."_

_I realized that Cedric had fallen silent next to me, and assumed he was asleep. Meaning, I was alone with my father's best friend and a Weasley. Totally not awkward and weird._

_"Thank Ryne Sandberg," I replied hesitantly, finally finding my voice again. "Probably the greatest second baseman of all time, who plays for the best team in existence— the Cubs."_

____

_"Please, of course I'm allowed inside!" His voice boomed through the tent._

_I sat in silence, staring at the famous man making his way inside. Sirius Black stood in the Medical Tent of the Triwizard Tournament, wearing a look of something I couldn't place and didn't care too. All that mattered right now was my lack of free movement and the fact that the man I hated most in the world was now grinning at me._

_"Great job out there, Theodosia." He laughed, standing in front of me. "You really gave that dragon a run for it's money."_

_The Healers had suddenly all disappeared and Cedric was silent on the other side of the partition. I stared at my father for a second too long, seeing once more how similar we looked._

_The same raven hair, sharp features, grey eyes. He was more tan than me, and less . . . unhappy. Clearly._

_Choking on my breath, I pushed myself off the bed and onto my feet. I shrugged on my jacket, that someone brought only a few minutes ago, and stared up at him._

_"Fuck you, Sirius." I near-whispered, pulling back on my gym shoes, hair flying in my face._

_"Theo, I just— I just wanted to explain why I left you with your aunt—"_

_"Did you really forget even that? My aunt died before I was born." I snorted, standing up. "I live with mom. Or did you forget her too?"_

_Before he could reply, I stormed from the tent, ignoring the shouts ordering me this way or that. At that moment, I didn't care. And I really wanted to punch something._

____

_"Please, of course I'm allowed inside!" His voice boomed, George Weasley barreling through the Healers who soon made themselves scarce._

_The tall redhead rushed towards me, hands cupping my face before I could stop him. "What are you doing, Weasley?"_

_"Trying not to kidnap you for the rest of the school term." He responded without missing a beat, looking over my body for injuries. "Merlin, Doe, I think I had a heart attack."_

_"Well, you do have the smell of an old man—"_

_"I'm serious, you idiot." He grumbled, refusing to release my face even as I pinched him. "You're too reckless—"_

_I snorted, rolling my eyes. "Look who's talking, Mister-Let's-Swim-With-The-Giant-Squid."_

_Dropping to his knees without any care for the dirt, George looked with intensity at my bandaged leg, as though he could see through the cotton. I rolled my eyes, flopping backwards onto the cot. If he wanted to be a weirdo, I wasn't going to waste my energy._

____

_It terrified me._

_The thought of the next task. I had just faced a literal dragon for Merlin's sake! And though I was mostly unscathed, the idea of facing something like that again made me want to take up George on his offer to kidnap me._

_Still, I did my best not to let it show, instead getting out of the grounds as soon as I could. Surprisingly, George had yet to leave my spot, even as his brother and Lee Jordan ran by laughing. He just smiled and continued rambling about something or other. Any other day, I would've kicked him by now, but I needed a distraction._

_Winter break was coming up, and I was not looking forward to going home. The thought had been at the back of my mind since the meeting with Dumbledore. It wasn't until the end of George's latest story about some dumb thing his little brother did that I realized something crucially forgotten by both myself and Dumbledore._

_"The Yule Ball is Christmas Day," I said, interrupting George. The boy raised an eyebrow, looking down at me._

_"You asking me out—"_

_"Shut up," I scoffed, smacking his chest. "That means none of the older years can go home for break, right?"_

_"Well, yeah, that's kinda how it works, love."_

_A part of me soared, thinking of getting to miss returning to America. But another bit of me crumbled, remembering Cedric's face when he thought we couldn't go home. Things were so much easier when I didn't have any friends._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About the stuff at the beginning, I basically wrote three scenarios of could've happened. The last one, as you may have guessed, was the real one. Idk, meeting everyone just felt kinda anti-climactic at this point. But, it will happen this next Act. So . . . get ready.


	14. Fourteen

**THEO**

**~**

**WINTER, THE MOST WONDERFULL** time of the year, supposedly. Fuck that.

Between the extreme cold, dead trees, the flu, and frostbite, I was not a fan. But, something about this winter was different than any before. This winter break, I wasn't going home.

Home is a loose term, given the various different houses my mother had moved us through over the course of my lifetime. Also, the lack of warmth or love needed for a house to be a home. Because of Dumbeldore's dumbassery, I was forced to stay. It wasn't even a choice; nothing I could be blamed for.

So, despite my hate for the season, I was looking forward to break.

Minus the Yule Ball.

Kia Pucey, in all her shallowness, had spent the past month deciding on a dress. Our dorm room was filled with cloth swatches and sketches, as though she was choosing her wedding dress. Though, in most Pure-Blooded families, you basically were at this point.

Who you associated determined a lot for a young Slytherin. The Yule Ball— or the usual Summer Masquerade held every June —was seen as a pre-pre-engagement. I hadn't attended, seeing as I was in another country every summer, but I had been roommates with Kia long enough to know more than I ever would need about the subject.

Now, we were nearing Christmas, the last day of class coming to an end for the next two weeks. A grin couldn't be kept off most faces, for once including my own. Snape seemed positively shocked to see me smiling. He had taken the brunt of my outbursts of anger in the past four and a half years, and usually steered clear of me around break. But, in Potions that day, everything felt . . . lighter.

I couldn't remember the last time I had more than a couple of hours to just do anything. It was usually just a constant shuffle between Hogwarts and America, juggling school or my mother constantly.

But that day, everything was alright. So, I was smiling.

We were having a review day, independently studying with the rest of the fifth years in the Great Hall. Unfortunately, the fourth years were also studying. We were split up by grade, leaving me stuck with the Weasley's, but away from Potter.

I was sent to the Gryffindor table with most of the other's in our grade, stuck between George and Cassius. Cedric was at the Ravenclaw table, though he seemed to be getting more chummy with Cho Chang by the second. I smirked, thinking Cedric's dorky expression was hilarious. He had been crushing on Cho since she beat him at Quidditch our third year, not that the oblivious girl realized it.

I snorted under my breath, noticing the red on my friend's face as he made the girl laugh. Dork.

Next to me, George had decided to take a nap. Snoring lightly, his arm brushed mine every few seconds with his breathing. Squished between him and Cassius, I had nowhere to move. Said blond was occupied with his date for the upcoming Yule Ball. Miranda Melvin was a Pure-Blooded witch in her fifth year, with big eyes and glasses that slid down her face. Her hair— stuck somewhere between blonde and brown —constantly fell in her face, and every once in a while__ , Cassius would push a strand behind her ear.

Love was in the air, and it was making me sick.

The only thing that could possibly ruin my perfect day was happening two inches too my left the next time I glanced at the pair. The two were sucking face, looking like a pair of blind baby seals. Nothing like seeing your cousin— your favorite cousin —smashing tongue's with a girl to snap you out of a bubble.

I fake gagged, turning away from the duo. Pushing away my Potion's book, I rested my head on the table, forgetting about the redhead next to me. Sleep called to me, taunting me with the knowledge that I hadn't slept well in a week. Warm airbrushed over my face, further pushing me into the realm of sleep.

__

Something was touching my forehead.

I forced an eye open, frowning at the pair of brown-eyes that stared back at me.

"What are you doing, Weasley?"

The redhead carried a smile in his voice, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, I was taking a nap. You?"

"Trying to block out the sound of Cassius and Miranda swapping spit," I responded with a groan, sitting up and stretching away from where our foreheads had been touching.

The Great Hall was empty of anyone else, meaning we had slept through the study hall. The boy beside me stood, shoving his things into his bag. I did the same— with more class —until there was just a scratch piece of parchment I knew wasn't mine laying on the table.

"You forgot a paper, idiot," I announced, gesturing to it.

The sixteen-year-old shrugged. "It isn't mine."

Rolling my eyes, I grabbed the parchment, flipping it over. Surely, it wasn't mi—

DOE **FUCKING** MARX, GO TO THE YULE BALL WITH ME? I PROMISE TO STEP ON YOUR TOES AND SING ALONG TO THE MUSIC AS LOUD AS I CAN. —WEASLEY

I snorted seeing the paper, looking up in disbelief at the only Weasley in the room. He raised an eyebrow. I looked back down.

"You . . . You promise to sing as obnoxiously as possible?" I finally questioned, trying and failing to keep my tone sharp.

"Absolutely. I'll even dance on stage, if you want me to."

I folded the parchment in half, tucking it into my pocket. "I think I'll let you freak for a day before I answer you."

I half-ran from the Great Hall, my heart beating fast. This was absolutely ridiculous. It was George Weasley. The bane of my existence. Someone I sometimes hated more than Potter! I couldn't actually consider going with . . . with him.

Besides, according to the Prophet, I was in a loving relationship with his brother, Percy.


	15. Fifteen

**_THEO_ **

**_~_ **

**WHEN I WAS A** Fourth Year, I met my Godfather. Remus Lupin was nothing less than a legend around the Wizarding world. One of the first to be open about his Lycanthropy, half the community hated him, while the other half adored him. He was one of the four Greatest Auror's the world had seen in decades. And, I didn't like him.

Well, I tried not to like him. I tried my best, but it was hard when he was one of the best teachers at Hogwarts. After some injury or another, the man decided to take a year off from being an Auror and teach at Hogwarts. I had no clue how he was qualified, but it was apparent he was when he showed up at the school.

He was a better teacher than Moody, who was still being a grade-A _testicle_ to me during class. Last year, everything was just . . . _different_.

Things weren't like they are now; back then, the only thing people could talk about was the escape of Peter Pettigrew and Quidditch. I shuddered each time his name came to mind. We had all seen the pictures of the rat-faced man, heard the stories of how he murdered a dozen muggles in cold blood. A servant to _Him,_ who had somehow escape Azkaban. He still hadn't been caught; the closest was when he was spotted in Hogsmede last summer.

We all thought he would come to Hogwarts. Harry Potter was here, the boy who killed his master. And _I_ was here, the daughter of the man who turned him in the first time. Sirius was all over the news that year as well, pictures of him, Pettigrew, the Potter's, and my Godfather always on the front page.

I hadn't thought about Pettigrew in a long time. By the end of the school year, I had greater things to worry about. But, when I saw Remus Lupin, I couldn't help but think of Pettigrew. It was early in the morning, just as the sun was rising, that I saw him. I was going to the Black Lake to avoid the non-stop pestering of Ivy. The Yule Ball was in less than a week and I was still dress-less and dateless. I wasn't looking forward to another dressy affair where people made fun of how I looked and thought I should care.

It was winter break and I was at school. while the first day or two had been incredibly exciting, I was now overcome by an overwhelming sense of something I couldn't explain. Something just felt _wrong_ and I hated it.

I had taken to walking the halls in the morning before anyone was up, and again at night when everyone had gone to sleep. It wasn't a calming experience in the slightest, especially when I was walking through the dungeons in the dark; but, it gave me a sense of reassurance. Like, I wasn't waiting, wasn't doing _nothing_.

Cedric had gotten _hurt_ during the First Task. That thought was enough to scare me into trying with this one. I had taken to lugging around the egg on my walks, staring at it as though it would start to talk. Well, it didn't really _talk_ , but it did _screech_.

I was so invested that I didn't see Lupin that morning.

__

It must've been past seven when I saw nearly crashed into him. My head had been down, and if it wasn't for the flash of a tan robe I wouldn't have stopped. I snapped up, looking at the former professor in confusion.

He looked worse than the last time I had seen him, bags under his eyes and a sickly look to him. I realized dimly that the full moon was only a day or two away. Gulping, I fought back my urge to run and hide; not because he was affected by Lycanthropy— something I actually found quite interesting —but because he was _best_ friends with my . . . with Sirius.

The haggard man offered a weak grin, recognizing me instantly. _Damn the year I spent making fun of him instead of keeping my head down._ "Theodosia, it's good to see you."

"Yeah, uh, _hey_ , Lupin. What's _up_?" My voice cracked slightly on the last word, more due to my lack of hydration than anything else.

"Not much. I was just dropping something off for . . . Harry." Lupin nodded to the egg I carried with tired arms. "Preparing for the next Task?"

"Uh-huh, thought it'd . . . I don't really know. Do _something_."

"Well, I thought you were great in the First Task—"

"You came?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Of course. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

For a second— just a second, I felt a rush of . . . _something_. Something I couldn't quite explain, but felt a helluva lot like . . . _happiness_ at the revelation. But then, I remembered I wasn't just talking to _my_ Godfather. I was talking to Harry Potter's uncle. Harry Potter, who was in the tournament.

I coughed, looking towards the risen sun outside. "I should really _go_."

"Oh— . . . alright. Well, I'll be back for the next Task. Maybe you can join Prongs, Harry and me for breakfast before—"

"No thanks. I—I really gotta go." I began walking— almost sprinting really —away, fighting back a scowl.

I was so, so, _so_ dumb.

 _Fuck_.

__

I was in a sour mood for the rest of the day. All I wanted was to go to sleep by the time curfew came. But, with all the talk of the dance— which was in just a few days —and a fact I still had yet to admit (that I was _actually_ going to the Ball with _Weasley,_ ) there was little sleep to be had.

So, I hefted up the egg and left my Dormitory with bare feet that were freezing and nothing more than sleep shorts and a baggy tee on. My wand had been left behind— something probably dumb —and I was wearing my glasses rather than contacts, leaving me to push up the frames with my nose every few minutes.

"Need some help?" An oh-so-familiar annoyance asked in a whisper as I nearly dropped the egg.

__

_"Need some help?" A voice asked from behind me, probably noticing my struggles. The trunk I had was far too heavy to lift on my own, but I wasn't about to accept help. I could do it, I just needed a second._

_"No," I insisted, pushing my glasses up by wiggling my nose._

_Before I could stop him, a pair of arms were heavy my trunk up onto the train, doing what would've taken me minutes in seconds. Showoff._

_I looked up at the redhead who had given me unwanted help, frowning at him. "I didn't need your help."_

_"I think the sweat on your forehead says otherwise, love."_

_I whipped my head up, staring at the gangly boy, absolutely appalled. I was_ not _his 'love' and he had no right or reason to call me such. "I think you need to shut up before I give you a black eye."_

_"Can you even reach my eye?" He snickered, looking down at me. "Want me to crouch?"_

_"George! Where's your brother?" A panicked voice called, interrupting our stare-down. The annoying boy across from me looked up towards the woman shouting, raising an eyebrow._

_"Which one?"_

_Another redhead came from the crowd, standing next to the woman I assumed was his mother. "Fred's already on the train, mum. So is Charlie."_

_"Oh, alright." The woman shook her head, glancing at the annoyance and then at me for a second. "Did you say goodbye to your parents, dear?"_

_Me. She was talking to me._

_I fought back a frown. "My mom's not— . . . er, yeah, I already said goodbye."_

_After that, I left the boy in favor of the first compartment I saw, which happened to have a bubbly copper-haired boy with a box of what seemed to be jellybeans. His name was Cedric, he told me, he was a First Year._

__

"No," I frowned at George Weasley, shaking my head. "I'm perfectly capable of carrying it myself."

George held up his hands in mock surrender, clearly biting back a laugh.

" _What_?" I questioned, sighing.

"You really _are_ stubborn."

I opened my mouth to give a retort, but the sound of a swinging lantern made us both freeze. _Filch_.

"Shit," I muttered, running down a random hall, George on my tail. I also knocked into the stature of Boris the Bewildered, my bare feet surely alerting Filch.

"Students!" A croak cried through the hall. "Students out of bed!"

I recognized the door to the Prefect's bathroom and skid to a stop. "Pickle!"

Nothing happened. _Crap, crap, crap—_

"Uh, er, Peanuts!"

George attempted to pull me further, but then, one more try came to mind.

" _Pine fresh!"_

The door swung open, allowing us to jump through the barrier. I tripped over a piece of tile, barely catching myself. As for the egg . . .

I watched in horror as the golden object sunk to the bottom of the pool-like bath. From behind me, I heard George locking the door, leaving us stuck inside with the drowning egg and an unrealistic portrait of a mermaid. I mean, who could fit boobs like _that_ into two shells?

I hung my head, staring down, down, _down_ at the golden egg. The egg I had just _lost_.

"I don't think he saw us, so we should be fine." George's voice stirred me from my wallowing, prompting me to stand.

I was suddenly _extremely_ aware of my pajamas and _his_ choice in nightly attire. A black t-shirt, red shorts, and _nothing_ else. The large bathroom was suddenly very smothering. I coughed refocusing my attention on the egg.

"You're gonna have to get it eventually," George said with amusement in his tone.

I shook my head, rocking back on my heels. "I can't."

"Oh, come on, love. I'll turn around."

"No, I mean— I _can't_." I groaned, hating that _Weasley_ of all people was about to know about _it_. "I . . . I can't _swim,_ asshole."

A look of shock and understanding came over his face, mouth forming an _O_.

I looked down, pressing my toe into the space between two tiles. "Could you just— just _get it_?"

He didn't respond right away and I worried he would say no and just walk away. But then, a shirt was being dangled in front of my face. "Hold this for me?"

I wordlessly took the surprisingly soft material, averting my gaze. I wasn't going to look, I wasn't going to look, _I wasn't going to—_

_Oh._

I gulped, face hot as I _unwillingly_ caught sight of _him_. George was in _only_ a pair of plaid boxers, shorts tossed back at me as he grinned. He had more freckles than I thought.

He jumped in the water as I picked up his shorts, holding the material tightly as I fought back a blush. I watched his red hair sink with the rest of him, swimming— no, _gliding_ —towards the egg. In less than ten seconds, he had the object, but as he lifted it, the lid opened.

I expected him to flinch or drop the sunken thing, but he just stared, furrowing his brow. I knelt by the edge— a safe distance away, seeing as I didn't want to _drown_ —and watched him shut the lid, swimming back up after a bit longer.

His hair was in his face, drops of water dripping off of his chin. I reached to take the egg, but he pulled it back, stopping me. "I think I solved just your mystery, love."


	16. Sixteen

**_THEO_ **

**_~_ **

**MY HANDS DUG INTO** George's shoulders, pulling myself as close as possible. Fear rushed through me and I fought the urge to just turn back. Forcing my gaze to George's, brown eyes met grey.

"You ready, love?"

For once, I didn't mind the nickname.

"I still can't believe I'm doing this," I sighed, voice shaking slightly. "I'm going to _fucking_ drown and then it'll just be Myrtle and me—"

"I won't let you drown—"

" _Ha!_ As though _you're_ going to rescue me while I'm dying a horrible—"

" _Theodosia_."

I stopped. George Weasley _never_ called me by my name. Never. It was always some dumb pet name, since our First Year. But now, he wasn't— he wasn't . . . _oh, sweet Jesus_ , _he's actually serious._

I let out a _long_ sigh, holding on more tightly. " _Fine._ "

The next thing I knew, we were underwater.

The water stung my eyes at first, and everything was blurry— seeing as my glasses were abandoned on the side of the pool, along with George's shirt _and_ shorts. I opted to keep _on_ my shirt, though my shorts were left after I confirmed the shirt I wore was long _enough_.

It was the _weirdest_ feeling to be underwater. Like I was floating or something. And everything was so . . . _cool_. Foggy and massive, the pool-like bath seemed to be another dimension. I looked away from the _weirdness_ to the redhaired teen I was holding on to like a lifesaver.

Heat creeping up my cheeks, I hesitantly loosened my grip, looking around as _singing_ filled the pool. The egg— it was doing _something._

_'Come seek us where our voices sound,_

_We cannot sing above the ground,_

_And while you're searching, ponder this:_

_We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_

_An hour-long you'll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took,_

_But past an hour – the prospect's black_

_Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.'_

My lungs burned by the end of the rendition and George pushed us up towards the air. Wet hair fell in my face as we broke the surface, golden tiles glimmering around us. I gripped the side of the bath, letting George go and moving back a good two feet. This had already been _way_ too weird for me.

"So . . . " George trailed off, looking down towards the egg.

I thought over the words, already starting to forget. "I guess the next task will take an hour— or less than an hour?"

" _Cannot sing above the ground_. I wonder what that's about?"

The Weasley shook his head, lifting himself out of the pool with ease. I tried to mimic what he had done— push up with my hands —but just slipped, almost going under. George held out a hand, which I begrudgingly took after the _third_ failed attempt. There were no towels in sight, so I stood in my wet shirt, wringing water from myself. I wondered if I could shake myself dry, like in those muggle cartoons? Not that I would try it with a _Weasley_ next to me.

__

The warmth of the water had quickly faded, leaving me with shaking and cursing.

"You're freezing, love," George commented, watching me shiver. We had been hiding out from Filch for a good half hour, and I had yet to dry off, though my shorts were now also wet.

" _Nu-uh_ ," I denied, squeezing more water from my hair.

"Uh-huh,"

"No—"

"Yes—"

"George!"

"Eg-ro-eg!"

_"What?"_

George shrugged. "Opposite of George is _Egg-row-egg_."

"Oh, _Merlin_." I sighed, rolling my eyes at him. "It doesn't matter. Filch is probably gone, I'll just rush back to my room—"

"All the way in the Dungeons? With _bare_ feet?" George rolled his eyes, chest _still_ lacking a shirt. It was very . . . a _nnoying_. That's _all_ George is; an annoyance.

"Yeah, _so_?" I responded cleverly.

"That's just— you're are just so _smart_ , love. Really. You'll get a cold or— or some weird disease from walking around _barefoot!"_

"What's your plan then, Mr. I'm-so-clever?"

" _Here_ —" His shirt was thrust towards me.

I scoffed, shaking my head, "I'm not— I . . . I have my _own_ clothes, Weasley. I don't—"

"It's warm, you're cold, and we both know you _love_ seeing me shirtless."

I gaped at him, a huff escaping me. " _I do not—_ "

"Just put on the shirt, and then I'll stop."

I stared at the material for a moment, then glanced up at those _awful_ brown eyes. " _Fine_ ,"

I took the shirt, turning around and ripping off the soaked one I currently wore, pulling on the dry replacement as quick as I could. When I turned around, George was facing the pool, face as red as mine surely was. I cleared my throat, prompting him to turn around, silent for once.

" _Well_ , I'll be— uh . . . "

I nodded, eyes wide. "Yeah, er, _bye!_ "

I left the room first, egg in hands and face burning. Abruptly, I was no longer cold.

__

When I woke up the next day, I gave Cedric the egg, explained my newfound realization, and ran from the Great Hall to avoid a certain Weasley boy. _Ron_ , I was totally avoiding Ronald Weasley. Not his somehow not-so-annoying-anymore older brother. After all, I _was_ dating Percy, according to the Prophet.

My dorm was filled with my _roommates_ , the bothers, so I decided it would be safest to camp out in the Library all day. No Weasley would ever step foot in a library willingly, unless their first name was _Perseus._

I was _not_ a fan of reading— I got distracted easily and there were always just so many _words_. But, there was an _entire_ area dedicated to animals, so I figured it wouldn't be the worst way to spend a day.

Of course, I should've remembered that it was almost Christmas, meaning almost time for the _ball_. And that I was going.


	17. Seventeen

**_THEO_ **

**_~_ **

**I WAS NOT READY** for this. It was insanity, pure insanity. The dress I wore was too thin, too soft, too short, too long, too everything and too nothing. It wasn't okay, this wasn't alright.

Tears stung my eyes, threatening to fall as I looked at myself in the mirror.

Merlin, I was such a wimp. Crying for no reason.

But, the dress was white and long and fit me just right, not too tight or too loose. And the heels were short and my size, without those toe-pinching parts that most had. My hair was down, but pinned out of my face, no itchy strands scratching at my face.

It was fine, but I wasn't.

I looked for some flaw in my look— a tear in the dress, a piece of hair that wasn't straightened, _something —_ but I couldn't see anything. I wanted to dump a bottle of ink on myself or smear the make-up forced onto my face. I was just a _doll_ , again. And I hated it.

"You look _fine_ , Theodosia," An annoyed Ivy announced from where she stood in the bathroom. "A dress and heels won't kill you."

 _It might_.

Blinking away the last of my tears, I cleared my throat, turning away from my reflection. I walked towards my bed, hating the feel of the dress against me. I hesitantly grabbed the shall from my bed, dark green material matching my earrings and the necklace I wore.

Less than three hours ago, three of my roommates cornered me in our dorm and threatened to burn my _first edition_ copy of _Fantastic Beasts & Where To Find Them_, which I had _lost_ over a month ago after some late-night reading. It was only when Ivy brought her wand to the cover that I relented.

Kia had already left a few minutes before, so had most of the others. I was putting off this Ball as long as I could.

They had trapped me in a dress, confined my feet to a pair of dark green heels, and choked me with a silver-chained necklace. Now, I was ready to punch someone or cry or do both. And a shout from the Common Room told me that my _date_ was here.

Walking as quickly as I could downstairs and across the common room, I attempted to shove my way outside the Slytherin dormitories, but a hand stopped me before I could escape. Cassius was grinning widely when he got a good look at what I had been forced into. The usually composed _douche_ snorted and opened his mouth to surely make fun of me, stopping as I raised a clenched fist. I was _so_ ready to fight.

"Say it, Cassius," I prompted. "Go ahead, cousin."

Letting go of my forearm, the blond raised his hands in surrender. "You look _great_ , Doe."

Sighing, I lowered my arm, shoving him _half_ -jokingly and walking through the short passageway outside. I was ready to ignore him and get this suffering over with. And then, he just _had_ to say something.

"Don't forget protection!"

I whipped around, lunging towards him, the door slamming shut in my face. I opened my mouth to say the password and kill Cassius, but it seemed as though my timing is _always_ wrong.

"Evening, lo— . . . _Theodosia_."

I turned in half-shock, spotting George Weasley with _Kia_.

I nearly choked on my spit, looking at the two of them. His hand on her waist; her arm draped over his shoulder; a smudge of lipstick on his cheek matching the shade Kia always wore.

_Oh._

"Theo, you ready?"

I looked to the side, eyes meeting Adrian's.

From down the hall, another voice started speaking, making the moment even worse. "Shouldn't you four be at the Ball?"

I looked towards my Head of House, a frown on my face. "Professor, I'm feeling ill. Is there any way that you— "

"Nobody is getting out of this Ball." The bitter man interrupted. "If I have to attend, _everyone_ has to attend."

Sighing, I ignored Weasley and his _date_ , grabbing Adrian by the elbow and pulling him towards the Great Hall. I was fully aware of the scowl on my face and how hard my nails were digging into his arm, but at that moment I just didn't _care_.

__

We reached the Great Hall just before the delegates were set to enter. Pucey and I stood behind Potter and his date— some Fourth Year who looked to care more about her dress than her date. His color was half-out, hair a mess, and the teen seemed incredibly nervous. Some of my anger dissipated as I spotted the scared boy, my grip on my . . . _date_ loosening.

I smoothed back my hair, controlling my expression and straightening my dress. I was being ridiculous, and while I'm sure whatever fear I made people feel had left as soon as I put on this _thing_ , I wasn't about to look as disheveled as _Potter_.

The music qued our entrance and the doors swung open. The first two to enter were the delegates from Beauxbotans. It seemed as though two of them— Pietro Romanov and Anya Joav —had chosen to go together. Both looked quite happy, but the girl was regal as ever, head up high. Krum however, was with someone . . . unexpected.

Hermione Granger was a face I almost didn't recognize when I saw her. In a periwinkle dress, she was almost unrecognizable; hair curled and pinned up, smile on her face as wide as could be. She seemed _happy._ I moved my gaze away from her, confused but ultimately not really caring why _Krum_ , the famous Quidditch player was going to the Ball with someone a grade younger and twice as dorky as him.

Fleur was the last one left, attending with some boy I recognized but couldn't name. On the whole, all of them (and their dates) looked beyond pleased with the events about to happen. And no matter how much I tried to smile as wide as them, I couldn't.

The first pair walked inside, followed by the next. Potter and his date went next, and then it was my turn. My arm was linked with Pucey's and my feet carried me without my consent. I wanted to run, to rip off this dress or jump in mud. I wanted to be _ruined_ at that moment.

But, I couldn't.

Instead, with something most would call a smile, my heeled feet forced themselves inside, straight to the dance floor. Stopping in my place, I turned to Adrian and looked straight at his neck. I didn't want to look at him, let him know just how much I wished to run for the hills as we started to dance.

He wasn't clumsy, didn't step on my foot even once. His dress robes didn't hold a single wrinkle and his breath didn't smell. He didn't try for small talk or move his hand lower so it rested somewhere unpleasant. He glided across the dance floor with me, leading me without forcing my movements.

We danced for five minutes. I didn't look up once.

__

I realized much too late how different things had become since school started this year. I spent less time with the people I _should_ be friends with and had been with since First Year; Adrian, Marcus, even Cassius and I had seen less and less of each other. It felt _shitty_ , because I know it's on me. I was alone most of the time, only with Cedric if anyone. I was even considering going to the Ball with a _Weasley_.

Things had been changing without my consent and I didn't like. So, I told the Weasley twin to go to hell, told Adrian to wait for me outside the Common Room, and maybe ruined everything.

The night was a bust. After that first dance, I sent Adrian off to talk with Cassius and Flint, hiding out in a back corner table with my shoes off and feet grazing the cold floor. I stirred a glass of punch with my finger, glaring at the colored liquid for a near hour. Every once and a while, some boy would come and ask for a dance, to which I'd tell them to go do something _explicit_. I didn't even notice the younger Weasley brother and his best friend sitting across the table.

Not until _he_ sat down.

" _Dad,_ what're you _doing_ here?" Potter's half-whine broke me from whatever trance I had been in, directing my attention to the man now sitting a seat away from me.

A young redheaded girl in his arms, the man smiled at his son. The girl was half-asleep, thumb in her mouth, but her half-opened eyes matched her father's. It took me a second to realize what was happening, who _exactly_ these people were.

James Potter. _James Potter_.

 _Shit_.

Suddenly dancing didn't seem like such a bad idea.

I stood, wondering if I could get away, grabbing my shoes from the ground, but it turns out it was already too late. I had been spotted.

"Theo, nice to meet you," James beamed at me, eyes wrinkling in the corners much like his son's would. "I'm your uncle."

I gulped, almost missing the embarrassed protest of Harry as James leaned forward. "Uh . . . _hi?"_

"I saw you in the First Task. Brilliant, really. You must get your quick relaxes from _me_ —"

"I'm pretty sure that's _not_ how it works—"

"Eh," The man responded, waving a hand in dismissal before changing the subject abruptly. "You here with a _boy?"_

"Uh . . . yeah?"

"A _boyfriend?"_

" _What?_ No! Definitely not."

From across the table, Harry sighed. It seems as though Ron had left. " _Dad_ , I already _told you_ she doesn't have a boyfriend—"

"You— _what?"_

Both Potter's eyes got wide, glancing at each other before James suddenly held up the child dozing in his arms. "Have you met _Caz?"_

"Considering that she's, like, _three_ , no . . . "

"Whelp, _here she is!"_

Deciding the awkwardness was far too much for me, I moved from the table as soon as I latched the last strap to my ankle from the annoying heels. The last thing I needed was to fall and embaress myself any further.

I managed to sneak out from the prying eyes and fake smiles, leaving the school entirely in favor of the cold air. Outside, my feet sunk into the snow slightly, the cold cooling my aching feet and calming my heart. Everything lately was so . . . _crazy_. One thing after another, it never seemed to really _end_. I was just . . . tired.

"You're gonna catch a cold, Theodosia."

There it was. _Theodosia_. I had barely noticed with all the shock that he had called me by something other than those annoying nicknames earlier. And here it was again. Not _love_ or some variation, but _Theodosia_. I couldn't help the _sad_ tone in my voice when I spoke.

"You went with Kia,"

"You went with Pucey."

I nodded, still not looking towards the Weasley. If I did, I think I might simply cease to exsist. Not because he has some dazzling eyes or dashing good looks. Just because all of this was way too _weird_.

I did not like George Weasley. I _didn't._

A soft weight alerted me to the jacket now on my shoulders. _My_ jacket.

I turned towards him in confusion, wondering how he had _my_ leather jacket. He shrugged, looking away from me. "You left it at breakfast, I stashed it behind a statue until I would see you again."

"You could have given it to me when I was— when you came to pick up your _date_."

" _Shit_ , Theodosia," He shook his head, sighing. "You're so— so fricking— "

" _What?_ Say it, George! Annoying? Bitchy?"

" _Confusing!"_ The redhead ran a hand over his face, frowning down at me. "You confuse me to no end, love."

"Oh, so now we're back to _love?_ Really, George, make up your mind— "

"Alright,"

The next thing I knew his face was in front of mine. _Really close_.

Lips smashed together. Smiles split across faces. Hands grabbed hair and waists.

And then it was over.

I stepped back from him, surely showing how I felt. Then again, I didn't really _know_ how to feel. Not then, not while my face was hot and my hands were shaking a bit and his hair was messed up from my hands.

 _Oh, God_.

I ran. ****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Alright, not gonna lie, I kind of based this of how I feel whenever I get a crush or whatever. I mean, I think for me at least, it's not so easy to fall for someone or to get into something more when they like you back. So, here you go. The Yule Ball.)


	18. Eighteen

**_THEO_ **

**_~_ **

**EVERYONE WAS ABUZZ WITH** excitement as the week of the next Task approached. Cedric and I had figured out a few next after the Yule Ball that we would have to go underwater. For this Task, only one would go, but it was selected at random, so we couldn't know for sure I wouldn't have to _swim_.

My mother was a firm believer that swimsuits were whorish and meant for women of a lower class than her, and in turn me. I never learned how to swim, nor did I ever own a swimsuit. The closest thing to swimming I had ever done before school was when the basement of our New Orleans house flooded and I was forced to wade in murky water for belongings until my mother remembered her _wand_.

For years, I had hidden my lack of ability when it came to swimming— after all, one shove and I would be drowning in the lake. But now, it seemed as though I had no choice but to admit defeat.

Of course, that didn't mean I'd tell Cedric.

__

Lunch was spent carefully planning my next move. I sat beside Cassius, but both of us seemed to be out of sorts, oblivious to the other's mood. I looked across the room at the table of red every few minutes, keeping my eyes trained on the trio of Fourth Years whispering amongst each other. George was next to his youngest brother, poking at his food. A few times, my stare drifted to him, but I forced myself to look away each time.

Now wasn't the time to think about _him_ , about _that_. The dress was shoved in the back of my closet, the make-up scrubbed from my face— every single reminder from that awful night had been hidden away or tossed out. Right now, I had to focus on the Task.

Halfway through lunch, Cassius abruptly stood, leaving the table and storming out of the room. I stared after him, wondering if I should follow when I spotted a brown-haired girl hurrying after him, grabbing the sleeve of his robe just as he left the room. I frowned, but didn't make any effort to move.

An owl suddenly swooped into the hall, dropping a letter on my plate before leaving just as fast as it had come. Looking away from the door, I let out a small _huh_ as I saw who had written me.

_Lily Potter_

I pondered whether or not I should open the letter, but it appeared as though I didn't have a choice. My target was leaving the Great Hall.

Shoving the letter into my pocket, I hurried outside, abandoning my table and my food.

I cornered Potter's friend— _Granger_ —in the corridor. She was around my size and height, not to mention a friend of Potter and a _muggle_. While many Pure-Blooded girls were raised with the same . . . lack of training when it came to water-play, nearly all of the muggle girls had some form of aquatic wear in their trunk. And, knowing how _modest_ Granger was, I predicted I wouldn't be stuck in a couple of scraps of fabric called _clothing_.

I had only spoken to Hermione Granger twice in all the years she had been at Hogwarts. Once to borrow a quill and again to send a message to Potter— _leave me alone_ , I think it was. So, I guess it was somewhat of a shock to the book-ish girl when I appeared from seemingly nowhere— _actually_ , behind the corner —calling her name.

" _Granger!"_ The name sounded weird coming from my mouth, but I persisted anyway, calling for her once again before she turned.

Offering what I hoped was a non-threatening look, I approached the Fourth Year with care. The last thing I needed was to be chasing down a Gryffindor all day. It was best to just get this all over and done with, before I ended up the laughing stock of Hogwarts.

The girl shifted on her feet, giving me a sheepish look. "Uh, Theodosia?"

" _Hey,"_ I cleared my throat. "Do you have a, _uh_ , swimsuit I could borrow?"

Granger stared at me for a moment in confusion before slowly nodding. "Yes?"

"Great, meet me after dinner by the portrait of _Haggard Holmes."_

"Alright . . . "

I turned on my heel and wasted no time leaving, face hot and fists clenched tightly. I could only imagine what she'd report back to Potter. Something bad would come from this, for sure.

__

I was surprised with the girl followed through with our agreement, bring a wad of red with her to meet me. She handed the swimsuit to me with a sheepish look, but waited until I was turning to leave before speaking up.

"What're you going to . . . _do?"_ She questioned, voice squeaking slightly.

"This _activity_ of mine is on a need-to-know basis," I offered a smirk, shrugging. "And you don't need to know."

Walking away from the Fourth Year, I made my way straight to the Common Room, well aware that everyone was still wandering around before curfew and that I had to _wait_ a bit for my plan.

While I hadn't done much this year outside the rules, in years past I had been the sort to pull all kinds of things once the lights turned off. Mostly, I just sold dung bombs to people and maybe tossed one or two under the Gryffindor's table before breakfast. But every once in awhile, I had _fun_.

Now though, I was done. Done with the childish pranks and the lies for the sake of lying. But, it couldn't help but feel familiar as I sat by the glass wall of the common room with homework in front of me, waiting for the last student to go to bed. Surprisingly, I wasn't that far behind on my homework this term. Usually, a couple of assignments slipped through the cracks, followed by a couple more, until I was suddenly surrounded by blank parchment and a dozen assignments. The only class I was always on top of was Potions. Only because Snape would make it his duty to order me to complete assignments every time he saw me, which meant during meals and in the Common Room on top of class.

Once I'd finished my latest Potions Essay— a dissertation on what potions were the best for healing, but could also kill you if brewed wrong —and had completed my Herbology assignment— something entirely boring and painstakingly long —I was ready to enact my plan. However, my plan was not ready for me.

I waited another full _hour_ to go to the Prefect's Bathroom. I had a spellbook and my wand with me, so I felt that I could _surely_ figure this _thing_ out on my own. The library was filled with books, a whole shelf with ones dedicated to all things . . . _aquatic_.

This one— _Spells For Swimming Splendidly_ —seemed more promising than the one next to it— _Spells For Swimming with the Fishes_. I set my spellbook on the ground next to my wand, tossing my shirt by the wall. Left in only the red — surprisingly _two-piece_ — swimsuit I borrowed from Granger, I bit my lip with a frown.

Maybe this was _really_ dumb.

I looked at the mermaid on the stained glass opposite of me. She was _laughing_.

Picking up my wand, I flipped to the page I had dog-tagged earlier, taking in a deep breath. I moved my wand hesitantly to my feet, the spell getting tangled in my mouth. _Alright, come on, one more try._

I swallowed, cleared my throat, and started saying the spell once more, loud and clear and quick.

For a second, I thought I'd messed up again.

And then, I couldn't breathe.

Choking on each breath, I barely felt the tingle in my legs or the feeling as I _fell_ . . .

My head smacked against the water and I suddenly could breathe once more, greedily inhaling air—

Except, I was in the _water_. Surrounded by golden tiles and a sudden feeling of fright, I looked down. My legs were gone now. Instead, there was a _tail_.

I looked up, barely spotting the mermaid through the barrier of water between us. She waved down at me with a smile I couldn't help but return.

 _It worked_.


	19. Nineteen

_**THEO** _

_**~** _

**I HAD** _ **NOT**_ **THOUGHT** this through. Clearly, the fine print is worth something when it comes to spells. It had been nearly an hour and while I was amazed at first by the sudden ability I had developed when it came to swimming, I had grown tired of _swimming_. Well, what was close _enough_ to swimming. It took a while to get a hang of the oddness, though things weren't as _scary_ when I didn't have to worry about drowning.

From above me, the mermaid in the painting laughed, shaking her head at me. I glared, sinking against the tiled bottom.

_Fuck._

A blurry figure appeared above the surface, dark hair surrounding the face that peered down at me. I frowned, imagining Flint or one of the other male Prefects looking down at me. With some awkward struggling, I managed to near the surface, grabbing hold of the bath's edge. Knowing fully that I couldn't breathe outside the water, I stayed under the surface, recognizing the boy kneeling in front of me.

A wave of bubbles left my mouth as I tried to curse.

 _Harry Fucking Potter_.

I wondered what the _hell_ he was doing in the Prefect's bathroom past curfew, or how he even knew the password. However, the egg next to him explained nearly everything. He was here to go for a swim with his egg, but the mystery of how he got inside still passed me by. Only seven other students were supposed to know the password and at least two of them wouldn't bother giving it to some Fourth Year. Then again, since he was _Harry Potter_ , he probably got all sorts of privileges others didn't. He got to join the Quidditch team his _First_ _Year_ , somehow got Dumbledore to give _his_ House the Cup, despite _Slytherin's_ victory.

I glared at the boy from under the water, waiting for him to make some dumb comment or drop his egg into the water. He opened his mouth and I lifted my head barely above water, making sure the _gills_ I had sprouted on my neck stayed underneath the water.

"Nice night for a swim?" He finally asked, grinning awkwardly.

I tried to curse him out, but my mouth made no sound. I couldn't _talk_.

My grip on the tile tightened as I grew more annoyed by the second, unable to miss the concerned look on Potter's face as he noticed the pruniness of my fingers and struggle to communicate.

"How long have you _been_ down here?"

I held up a finger, careful not to lose my grip. Harry shook his head, sighing. "I know you don't like _me_ , but you could've asked George to help you."

I gave him an incredulous look, wondering why on Earth he would think I'd go to _George Weasley_ of all people for help with something so _embarrassing_.

"What? Aren't you two _together—_ " I splashed a small wave of water at him, glowering. " _Jeez_ , Theo, cut if out. I just thought since you two left the dance together that— "

I raised an arm to splash him once more, but he held up his hands in surrender. Lowering my ligament, a silent sigh left me. This was just _great_.

"What are you even _doing_ here?" The idiot questioned idiotically, leaning back on his heels.

I raised an eyebrow, questioning how he was so _oblivious_ and forgetful sometimes. Like a goldfish or something. Just swimming in circles, thinking he's getting somewhere then forgetting everything three seconds later. He was just _hopeless_.

I sighed once more, pushing wet hair from my face. I was tired and ready for a good night's sleep in the comfort of my bed. But, like always, I got myself into a mess and now I needed someone to clean it up. I wondered how Snape would punish me for turning myself into a mermaid tomorrow when McGonagall or Dumbeldore would tell him. Surely, the Fourth Year would run to one of them, shouting details of my latest blunder.

Instead, he bit his lip and cracked his knuckles. "Well, how do I reverse whatever spell or charm you did? Did you write it down somewhere?"

Realizing Potter might not be _completely_ useless, I raised my hand out of the water, pointing towards my discarded book. The boy retrieved it, presenting it to me with a determined look on his face.

Ignoring his gaze, I flipped to the correct page, pointing to what I'd used. It was some hybrid _thing_ ; using gillyweed and some incantation. It was meant for a Seventh Year to use, but I had accomplished it in my Fifth. Well, accomplished _most_ of it.

For a few minutes, the two of us sat in silence as Harry read through the _entirety_ of the description. I awkwardly hung off the ledge of the bath, fighting my urge to let go and just spend the rest of the night in the Prefect's Bathroom.

"I think I've got it . . . " Harry finally said, brow furrowed. "Yeah, it seems as though you just need to— "

"Harry?" I felt my eyes widen incredibly as I spotted the girl Cedric was infatuated with standing by the doorway, towel in hand. "Theodosia? What are you two doing here?"

I opened my mouth, only to remember I still could not speak. It was up to Potter to save the day.

"Theo got stuck in the water."

_Great. Thanks, Potter._

" _Oh?"_ She drew closer, gasping as she saw the _tail_ that had replaced my legs. I glared at her, heat climbing up my cheeks. It was embarrassing enough that _Potter_ had to see me in such a helpless position— at least I knew _he_ wouldn't go blab about it to the entire school.

"Yeah, I— I can, uh, reverse it," He mumbled, clearly nervous to be around Cho. "That's what I'm— what I'm _doing_."

The Boy Who Lived reduced to a worm as soon as a girl bats her eyes.

"Are you sure you _can_? This looks like a pretty . . . _complicated_ spell." The Ravenclaw girl kneeled by Harry, looking over the page Harry had been looking at. "I actually read about this last year. I think I can _help_ — "

I shook my head vigorously, glaring at Cho. She may have been Cedric's _whatever_ but that didn't mean I trusted her. Harry, however, seemed to be under a love potion, for he nodded immediately, smiling brightly at her. He looked like a serial killer.

Before I could protest, she had her wand pointed at my face. I cringed, shutting my eyes as I waited for my impending doom.

A tingling sensation hit my legs and I choked on my breath as the gills disappeared. I opened my eyes, my grip on the bath's edge slipping. I tried to shout, but no sound came out. Harry and Cho both reached forward for me, grabbing hold of me before I slid underneath the water. With some awkward struggle, I ended up on my back, staring up at a ceiling.

"Merlin, Theo, put on some clothes!" Harry suddenly shouted, throwing my shirt at me.

I rolled my eyes, pulling the too-large shirt over my head. Pushing myself up, I stood on shaky legs, looking around for my belongings. I hadn't brought shoes— despite the cold floor of the castle —and the book now sat in Harry's arms. I grabbed my wand from where it must've fallen earlier, checking it over for damage and finding none.

Looking between Cho and Harry, I nodded and cleared my throat. After a few seconds, a low groan escaped me and I choked out a grunt before leaving. Harry could return the book and explain why it was missing from the library in the first place.


	20. Twenty

_**THEO** _

_**~** _

**THINGS HAD BEEN . . .** _ **WEIRD**_ since Christmas Break.

I thought once classes started back up, things would go back to normal, but they really didn't. George _ignored_ me, sitting as far from me as possible in every class. At meals, he made sure to sit so he never faced the Slytherin table, and he pranked Slytherin more viciously than ever.

For years, I had thought it would be a _blessing_ if George stopped annoying me. But, now that he had— now that George ignored me, I felt kind of . . . empty. It was like, I had this tumor on my arm for so long that now I was lopsided without it. And, I knew that George was bad— he was a jerk to Slytherin's sometimes and he seemed to be ready to get married tomorrow or something. He didn't care about his grades or getting in trouble— he was actually _proud_ of the reputation he and his twin had as Pranksters.

I was so _different_. While I wasn't soft, I didn't like being _bad_. When I scared First Years— it kind of hurt, most of the time. It was worth it— because they wouldn't _bug_ me if they were scared of me —but it still just _hurt_. And I hated getting in trouble— really, truly hated it. Half-way through Fourth Year, I flat-out _stopped_ selling contraband in school. I don't even know why I brought all the _crap_ I did this year— I ended up tossing it all in the Black Lake a few months into school.

George Weasley was my opposite in so many ways. He was _good_ , despite acting bad— yet, I was scared I was bad no matter how good I pretended to be. That's why we _worked_. It was some yin and yang shit— balance and all of that.

Now though— I didn't talk to him. I sat unbothered between Cassius and Adrian during class— faked a laugh, avoided looking at him. Because if I looked at him, I'm sure I would start thinking of the Yule Ball and seeing him with Kia and talking to him and—

I didn't talk to Kia, either. _Ever_. She was pissed at me for some reason and I couldn't stop thinking about her and _George_ whenever I saw her. Just the sound of her voice made me want to punch something— preferably her.

But, I couldn't stop to worry about all of _that_. So, instead, I focused on the Task and kept my head down. Cedric though— Cedric was on cloud freaking nine. Him and Cho were dating— officially —and it made him happier than ever. I almost wondered if he'd been hit with a love potion— but Cho seemed just as lovestruck.

I was happy for them— really, I was. I didn't care much for Cho, but Cedric was my _friend_. So, I smiled as he stared at her across the hall during any meal they didn't sit together. And during Prefect meetings (which I'd been forcing myself to attend) they'd be side-by-side, whispering to each other and both blushing like crazy. I'd never seen Cedric so happy— not even when he won his first Quidditch match.

For him and Cho, I think it was a forever type of thing. The thing where you get married and have loads of babies in the suburbs— that was what they were going to have —and everyone seemed to know it. I wanted that for Cedric— I really did. He was an only child, but the closest thing I had to a brother. He would be a great dad, I could already tell. He was great with the First Years and always seemed to have his head on right. Cedric Diggory was just _good_.

I decided to let him slack off for this Task, since I'd slacked so much the first time. Once I figured out how, I returned to the Prefect's Bathroom every night to practice the spell. We were running out of time before the next Task and I needed to be _ready_.

For Cedric.

I couldn't watch him get hurt, not ever again. I'd seen the little scars left by the First Task's burns— seen the way he would rub over his face to make sure they were gone every once and a while. the First Task _hurt_ him, and I wasn't going to let that happen again. Even if he didn't show it, Cedric was scared. And I wouldn't give him more to be scared about. I'd do the Task, protect him, and he'd run off into the sunset with Cho.

It was all going to work out. And if it didn't, I'd do anything to fix it.


	21. Twenty-One

_**THEO** _

_**~** _

**THE SECOND TASK WAS** something I was prepared for. I was ready— more than ready —to jump into the Black Lake and rescue some treasure while my friend cheered me on.

The day was cold when we got outside, though admittedly nice for winter in the UK. Second semester had started weeks ago and I had spent most nights attempting to study and make sure that Cedric was prepared. It was like I had become some other person— like I had been possessed.

Not even the extra homework Moody dumped on me or the looks all of the Weasley's sent me could keep me from getting ready.

Now that it was here, though, I couldn't stop thinking about anything _but_ the Task and my part in it. Like, if George was here, or the Potter's, or _Sirius_. I sat in a tent before the Task started by myself, as Cedric off with Cho before the draw began.

A flash of red hair made me _hopeful_ for some damned reason, but I reigned in my disappointment when I realized it was only Ginny— George's younger sister —who had appeared.

I schooled my features, biting the inside of my cheek as she stormed towards me. _Two_ years younger than me, Ginny still looked at me like I was a child. I had been on the receiving end of her glare for days now, yet I still couldn't figure out why she was _here_ — in my tent —and not with her brother's planning my demise.

"You're a real idiot, you know?" She proclaimed, shaking her head.

I shrugged, not knowing what she expected me to say. "I never said I wasn't."

"You really think bad of everything— even yourself." She scoffed. "But, for some _stupid_ reason, my brother likes you. So, stop being a _wimp_ and get your head in the game, Marx."

"I'm not thinking about _him_ — "

"Yes, you are." She smirked at me, pushing hair from her face. "It's obvious. But, George doesn't want you dead— somehow. So, start thinking about the Task and _don't die_."

Before I had a chance to retort, she was gone from the tent, red hair whipping around in the wind. I glared at her back, scoffing. As though I would ever let a Weasley distract me. I was Theodosia _freaking_ Marx— no little boy would keep me from something.

A horn signaled the start of the draw mere seconds after Ginny had left, making my heart beat twice as fast. Standing, I left the Tent with my sternest look, trying to ignore the chill of the wind. It was cold out as usual— for a February day in the UK. I stood next to the delegates from Beauxbatons as we began, Cedric coming to stand next to me.

Dumbledore held a bundle of what seemed to be dried kelp in his hand, arms held out towards us. "Champions— welcome to the Second Task. We congratulate you on your work so far and wish you good luck on this next Task."

I glanced at Cedric, noting how pale his face was. He was scared. My hand found his as the Judges explained the draw. Madam Maxime spoke up this time. "Each of you _vill_ take a— a _kelp._ Whoever picks the shortest of you and your partner _vill_ compete."

I nodded slightly as her eyes locked with mine, biting down hard on the inside of my cheek. This is what I had been working for— what I'd been practicing all week for. I was going to get the shorter piece. 

The Durmstrang delegates picked first— _Viktor Krum_ they shouted as the winner was revealed.

Next were the girls from Beauxbatons— _Fleur Delacour_ was announced with delight by the judges.

We were last. I pulled a strand of kelp first, clenching it tightly in my hand as Cedric drew. It was shorter— I could already tell. With a panicked decision, I ripped the kelp as it was between my hands, hiding half inside my pocket. As I presented the piece, I noticed Dumbledore staring from the side. He turned away, saying nothing.

_Oh._

_"Theodosia Marx-Black,"_ Karkaroff announced in a booming voice. A smile split across my face— _thank Merlin it worked._

I looked to my side, where Cedric was frowning at me. I offered him a small smile, moving towards the girls' tent to change. Hung over a chair was my newest uniform, soft music playing from somewhere, probably in hopes of calming us down beforehand. But, I didn't want to calm down. I was _ready_.

__

Dressed yet again in black-and-green, I neared the deck we were launching from, wand in hand. The rest of my things were inside the tent or the school— safe from grubby hands. Tight material and bare feet left me feeling exposed and cold— especially as the icey mud near the lake hit my feet.

It had been thirty minutes since the drawing— yet Cedric seemed to have disappeared. I looked at Fleur and Viktor, finding Harry running towards us, cheeks red in embarrassment. Snorting, I shook my head, getting my wand ready. _I_ was ready.

But, I still needed someone to reverse the spell after I was done. I would lose my voice— I needed Cedric. He knew the spell— I taught him myself. But he needed to actually be _here_ to do it.

The horn sounded and we were off. I practically shouted the spell as I jumped, making sure to toss my wand far onto shore. I didn't know any non-verbal spells yet— so it was useless now.

The water hit me with a cold burst, startling me away from whatever distracting thoughts I'd been having. It took me a second to get used to the _tail_ — though I had improved greatly since my first try. Pushing into the dark abyss, I made myself go faster and deeper— forcing myself to my limits. I'm sure if I was above ground, I would be sweating. But, here underwater— everything was clean and quiet. 

So _quiet_.


	22. Twenty-Two

_**CEDRIC** _

_**~** _

**I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN** better. I drew the shorter piece— I _know_ I did. But, she ripped hers. She _made sure_ she would be the one to compete. I couldn't help but just watch— what was I supposed to do? Show she cheated— she'd get disqualified or a penalty.

Then again, maybe that was for the best. It'd mean she'd be out of harm's way— even if she hated me. But, I can't let Theo hate me. So, I just let her go.

Cho pulled me away immediately after, arms wrapping around my neck. " _Ced,"_

I felt numb. The lovey-dovey bubble we'd been in since the Yule Ball suddenly popped. I pulled away, looking at my hands. Thoughts of Doe ran through my head— images of her beaten up or dead filling my mind. What protection could the school— hell, the Ministry —ensure when she was underwater.

I should have done something.

"Cedric?" Cho asked, eyes filled with _hurt_. Hurt. Cho was hurt— but I was in _pain_. "Why do you _care_ so much about Theodosia?"

I stared at her, stepping back. _What?_

She reached for me. "I just— you two were _holding hands_ — "

"She's my best friend, Cho." She was my— she was _Doe_. "She's the closest thing I have to a sister— "

"Then why do you _hold her hand_ — "

"Because I need to make— . . . I _need_ to make sure she won't _leave_. . . " I cried, running a hand through my hair. "Theo is a bomb waiting to go off— and I need to make sure I'm there to clean up the wreckage afterward. Like I always am."

"Cedric— "

"She's my _sister_ — okay? She's my sister."

I backed away from her, nearly crashing into McGonagall. Straightening my robes, I fought the redness climbing up my neck, embarrassment replacing my anger. "Uh— sorry, Professor."

"Mr. Diggory— your presence is required by the Judges tent."

I nodded, looking back at Cho only once. _Crap_. 

I followed McGonagall, realizing how much I'd messed up. Doe was rubbing off on me— at least, her anger was.

I liked Cho a _lot_ — maybe even loved her. Sure, that was premature and I'd wait the appropriate sixth to eight months before telling her— but, I cared a _lot_ for Cho. She was different than the previous short flings I'd had. But, no matter what, I wouldn't stop caring about Doe. She was my friend— _family_ by now.

And somehow, I'd let her and Cho down in under an hour.


	23. Twenty-Three

_**THEO** _

_**~** _

**I'VE ALWAYS BEEN ANGERED** by silence. My mom preferred the quiet— or maybe she just didn't like to be reminded of my existence. Meals were always spent in silence, only the sounds of cutlery and chewing filling the void. Nights in the Slytherin dorm weren't silent— not when Ivy was a night owl and Kia snored obnoxiously. Class days weren't silent— there was always someone whispering to someone else during a test or some teacher droning on and on. I was never haunted by the quiet at school. Not until I entered the water.

My skin felt unreasonably cold, despite the spell's properties, but I pushed forward. My hair was braided back into two tiny _pigtails_ that had left me feeling like a child, but still strands got in my face. Taking in a deep breath, I grabbed onto some seaweed as I neared this _light_.

It had been what felt like an eternity since I entered the water— the quiet harshness attacking me, suffocating me, hurting me. Ginny's _advice_ rang through my head as I peered through the seaweed. _Stop being a wimp and get your head in the game, Marx._

I nodded to myself, pushing through into the light.

A dozen mermen came into view, each more scary looking than the last. They just stared as I pushed through the water, suddenly aware of what I was doing. I had entered a _town_ underwater. The creatures of the Black Lake were more vast than I could have guessed. I kept waiting for the giant squid to attack as I swam through.

Confused, I looked around, wondering why I wasn't being attacked. One of them— a woman with stark white hair —jerked her head to her left. _Okay . . ._

Pushing forward, I fought to make my limbs do more— more tired than even a double Quidditch Practice could make me. I just wanted to _sleep_ — to _stop_.

But then, I saw Harry darting towards something in the distance.

Following, I noticed a group of _people_ tied to posts. I fought the urge to hurl, forcing myself closer. Copper hair somehow _glimmered_ under the water— _Cedric_.

He wasn't moving— he wasn't _moving_. His clothes floated a bit and his hair seemed to be a halo around his head— but Cedric himself wasn't moving. Pushing Harry to the side, I grabbed a fistful of Cedric's hair, forcing his head up as I pressed two fingers to his neck. A _bu_ — _bump_ vibrated through my fingers, sending a sense of relief through me. Reaching towards the ropes binding him, I yanked them away with a sharp tug, though they refused to budge. From beside me, I saw Harry working to get Ron.

 _Ron_ — holy _shit_. George's _littlest brother_ was here. _Shit. Shit. Shit_ —

The ropes gave away as my nails clawed at him, freeing my friend. He floated slightly, appearing almost angelic. I looked back at Ron in something close to worry, but his rope was close to snapping. Wrapping my arms around Cedric's waist, I pushed us upwards towards the surface, working as fast as I could.

We broke the surface first, my head hitting the dock _hard_. Blinking away the dizziness, I tried to breathe in— only to realize _I couldn't_. I reached towards the water, but arms pulled me back. Choking on air, I thrashed in _whoever's_ arms, black spots filling my vision.

And then suddenly, the suffocating feeling was gone. I felt a releasing feeling as the tail faded away back into my legs. Coughing out a breath, I relished the oxygen I received. A blanket was wrapped around me and my head was on Cedric's shoulder as I fought to relax.

Glancing up at Cedric, I smiled.

"Thanks for being my Knight in Shining Armor, Dosie." He chuckled, pushing wet hair from his face.

After a few seconds, I sat up, hair falling in my face. Pushing off the dock, I stood on shaky legs, walking towards the tents to change. Someone must've come out of the water a second later, because cheers filled the area, following me.

Ducking into the tent, I tried to change quickly, eager to get out of the cold. I only had a pair of shorts and a tee to change into, seeing as my clothes from the draw had been taken back to the school by the House Elves.

I tried to clear my throat, say something— but found myself mute.

Shaking my head, I left the tent, crashing into someone almost immediately. I glanced up, intending to push past _whoever_ it was and return to my friend. Except, it wasn't some reporter or another Champion— it was someone far worse.

 _Sirius_.

A hand grabbed my wrist, pulling me towards him as I tried to move away. I glared at him with everything I could manage, anger filling me. Why was he _here?_ Harry was probably still in the water— he should be _there_ , with _them_.

"Theodosia— . . . " He trailed off, trying for a smile. " _Hullo_."

I shoved him back from me, hands smacking at his chest as I kept shoving him— but he wouldn't move. My throat felt raw and my eyes stung with tears that would never be shed. Why was he here? _Why?_

"Wait— just— _Theo!"_

Giving up my assault, I stepped back. Pushing wet hair from my face, I glowered at him, waiting. He should just say what he needed and _leave_.

"I just— would . . . would you like to spend the summer with me?"

_What?_

_"Fu—Fuck you!"_ I croaked out finally, despite the stinging of my throat. _Was he kidding?_

I didn't bother staying any longer, running away from the scene and away from the lake, towards the woods.

Branches cut at my arms and legs, rocks and twigs stinging my feet as I ran. I knew these woods well— knew where it was safe and where I could be alone. In a matter of minutes, I reached a small clearing of trees— most stained with dried blood from past injuries. 

I raised my fist, ready to slam my skin into the bark until I got all of this _anger_ to dissipate. But, something stopped me. With a shaky breath, I thought of Cedric.

Cedric always got upset when I was hurt— it worried him beyond belief whenever he saw my knuckles or palms. Cedric— my friend. Cedric. 

I lowered my fist and let myself sink into the leaves, the cold biting at my body. Merlin— I was such a _fuck up_. 


	24. Twenty-Four

**_DEAN_ **

**~**

**I WAS JUST TRYING** to go to the kitchens for food. I had fallen asleep in the library, missing two of my classes in the process. Rather than face my Professors, I thought the path of least resistance would involve the House Elves. Instead, I got bombarded by an injured Fourth Year.

Nearly bumping into a teary-eyed girl, I frowned down at her. "What the _fuck_ happened to your hands?"

The girl's hands were starting to swell and grow red, blood and pus spilling from little cracks on her palms. "It's bo— bo— "

"Bobotuber pus?" I asked, annoyed by her _crying_. The Fourth Year nodded, fighting a whimper.

I sighed, pursing my lips. The Hospital Wing was on the other side of the castle— by the time she got there, her hands would probably _pop_. Gripping her elbow, I made a decision.

"Come on, I'll . . . _help_."

__

He made quick work once they reached the empty closet he'd claimed for myself— running a finger over the dusty labels as she searched for the right one. _Bobotuber_ — **A.** _Bingo._

Tossing the lid away, the stranger dipped two fingers inside the gel-like paste, scooping a decent-sized glob and smearing it on Hermione's palms. After a second, the injured girl sighed in relief, a few tears falling down her cheeks. The mystery healer grabbed a clean brush from another shelf and used it to apply more on her hands, placing everything back in its correct space afterward.

"Thank you," She said after a moment, watching as the boy proceeded to wrap her hands in cloth. "I'm— "

"Hermione Granger— Fourth Year and _apparent_ lover of Harry Potter." He snorted, shaking his head. "I'm DJ. We've been in the same classes for four years."

"Oh . . . I'm sorry, I must've forgotten— "

"It's fine. People tend to pay more attention to my uncle than me."

"Your uncle?"

The boy shook his head as he laughed. "Maybe I should have been more clear— my name is Dean Lupin. I think you know my uncle Remus."

With the way he acted, Dean looked somewhat familiar to Hermione. And there was something about his eyes . . .

She was creeped out— to say the least. The boy seemed agitated by her presence, like he was uncomfortable with her existence.

Pushing the door open, she offered a quick thank you, intending on running _far_ away from the strange boy.

"Hey— _wait_ ," He suddenly called, stumbling after her. Shaggy black hair fell in his eyes as he followed her into the hall, shoving a tin towards her. "Uh, _here_. The swelling should be gone by tomorrow."

"I— . . . _er_ , thanks." Hermione took the tin with careful hands, nodding to the boy. "I guess I'll see you in class . . . _Dean_."


	25. Twenty-Five

_**THEO** _

_**~** _

**"HEY." I MANAGED, TRYING** to be something _other_ than an asshole for once.

Kia _sniffled_ as she took the ribbon from her hair. Looking at me from the mirror's reflection, she bit the inside of her cheek.

"I'm— _shit_." I paused, catching the sight of tears in her eyes. "I'm _sorry_ , Kia. I never . . . "

Discarding the green piece of fabric on the floor, she rushed towards the bathroom, slamming the door.

I had _really_ messed up.

__

The days following the Second Task were filled with questions by anyone and everyone. Seeing as we were _underwater_ , nobody really knew all of the details. It got annoying very quickly, but one good thing did come out of it.

After I returned from the woods, Cedric was more . . . _distant_ than ever. Despite what I had assumed— he was _angry_ about the Task. What happened after he woke up seemed to just be a momentary lapse in fury. The day after, he confronted me in the hall, saying that if I tried something like that again . . .

It kind of sucked to get lectured by my only friend. It was different than him telling me to wear a hat or that cheating on McGonagall's tests would only land me in trouble— this was something _serious_.

Things just felt _weird_ now— different in every way.

I had pissed off— no, I had _hurt_ Kia without meaning too. George seemed to have dropped off the face of the Earth. The differences between him and Fred were painfully obvious. Even Harry— the annoyance who never seemed to leave me alone —had nothing to say to me. Everything was just _messed up_. And despite it all, the biggest thing on my mind was _Sirius._ I just wanted him to leave me alone. Everything bad in my life was his fault— _somehow_.

 _He_ left me with my mom— left me to be raised by a— by _her_ ; he got my mom pregnant; _he_ showed up at the Task and freaked me out— meaning I couldn't talk with Cedric; _he_ told Harry all about me so that _brat_ would bug me non-stop; _he ruined me_.

The days following the Task were spent in anger and sadness. At least, for me they were. For the other Champions— for _them_ , things were fucking spectacular.

Ronald Weasley and his _bff_ Harry seemed to be soaking up their fame. The redhaired Fourth Year seemed to tell the story of the Second Task with more and more _dramatics_ each time.

Even _Witch Weekly_ seemed to want a piece of the action. As a part of a Triwizard series, we were all featured in the latest issue of the tabloid.

_THE YOUNGEST BLACK IN LOVE?!_

_Theodosia Black has shown everyone her potential in the latest Task, setting an example for the rest of her fellow Champions to follow. She finished her Task in record time, but disappeared shortly after— going Merlin knows where for nearly two hours. After much investigating, we believe that we have cracked the case._

_The Young Black— daughter of famous Auror Sirius Black —has been said to be in a serious relationship with Perseus Weasley for over a year. However, our sources have confirmed Black does not have any relations with Perseus— but with his younger brother, George. While both attended the Yule Ball together, one source spotted the pair outside in an intense bout of passion common with two young souls finding each other._

I didn't bother reading the rest. I didn't need too. All I cared about was the picture plastered across the next page. It wasn't the best quality, but it was still obvious— I was kissing George Weasley.

Within a day, half of my house was set to shun me. A Slytherin involved with a Gryffindor— it was unheard of. Gryffindors joined in— making faces at me in the hall, catcalling when they could get away with it. Somehow, I'd become the biggest pariah in school.

I tried to be fine with it. After all, I'd never given much thought to people before— why should it bug me _now?_

Even Cassius and Adrian had abandoned me— Flint too, although we weren't all that close in the first place. The people I'd taken for _granted_ all these years— they all fell away from me.

The story did something else, though. Something that was almost . . . good.

I was alone in the Transfiguration room before class, doodling a dragon in the corner of my parchment. It was more blob that beast, but I was bored and it was distracting. After realizing how _unwanted_ I truly was, I'd left lunch early, ending up in an empty classroom well before anything began.

People slowly trickled in as lunch drew to a close, all avoiding me. I tried to tell myself I didn't care, sinking further into my seat. From a few rows down, a pair of girls snickered, looking over at me in an obvious way.

I finally sat up, sending a glare towards the duo. "Do you have something to say?"

One of the girls glanced back at her friend, smile dropping a bit. " _Uh_ — "

A thud vibrated through the table slightly as a chair scratched against the floor. Jerking my head to my left, I looked at him in disbelief. "George?"

He had bags under his eyes that were nearly as deep as mine, as well as a uniform more wrinkled than usual. But, it was him— it was _him_.

Offering a clearly fake smile, he pulled my chair closer to his, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "Hey, love."


	26. Twenty-Six

_**THEO** _

~

 **THIS WAS VERY** _ **WEIRD**_ **.** I wasn't really sure what to do. George didn't say anything further, but his arm remained on my shoulders and he didn't show any signs of moving. I tried to keep calm, but my heart was racing for some inexplicable reason.

"What— " I cleared my throat as my voice cracked. "What are you _doing?"_

He _shushed_ me, nodding towards the front. I must have zoned out, because McGonagall had begun lecturing, oblivious to my inner turmoil. I swallowed— throat suddenly dry, wondering why my face was so _hot_ all of a sudden. 

Throughout the entire class, George's arm remained slung across my shoulders and my face remained boiling. I think I even started to sweat, despite the constant chill throughout the school. I didn't move once— thoroughly frozen.

I stayed still even as the other students dispersed at the end of class— fully aware of George standing up and packing his things. Part of me just wanted him to leave— the rest of me was scared he would.

"Doe— are you coming?"

I glanced up, eyes meeting Kia's. George stood next to me, but I was suddenly focused on the twin of Adrian. Her eyes were tinged with red still and her face was growing red— but she still came towards me. I found myself nodding, standing on shaky legs to join her. George was _unstable_ , unknown— Kia was safe. More than that— she was familiar.

Sliding my bag over my shoulder, I glanced back at George before grabbing Kia's hand and leaving. The contact felt awkward, but I suddenly needed someone to keep me from making a mistake; I couldn't fall for _George_. I couldn't. School was ending in a few months and I didn't need anyone else worrying about me or writing me. No matter how much I missed— 

No matter _what_ , I couldn't do this.

Kia and I left the classroom.

__

Cedric begrudgingly sat next to me in Herbology later in the day. The remnants of winter left the greenhouse cold, but for once my friend didn't fret over my warmth. I was more than certain he was just with me so George or some _boy_ wouldn't be by my side— no doubt word of Weasley's arm around my shoulders had spread to him by now.

Cedric was always weird about boys— specifically _me_ being around boys. It wasn't jealousy, more so an overprotectiveness that I was unfamiliar with before starting school. Since our second year, when Albert Penn presented me with a rose and called me _a babe_ , he had been odd about boys. I guess he _did_ hear all of the things boys said about girls in the bathrooms and dorms— so it wasn't entirely unjustified. I knew he wasn't as _crass_ as some of the boys— and girls —at our school, but the level of maturity was almost shocking.

I had never caught Cedric peering up a girls skirt or staring at her _chest_ — he hadn't commented on any of the maturing females unless saying he thought she was _pretty_ or smart. Ced was the type to worship his girlfriend, and he did.

Cho was a Goddess to him— it was obvious. He was always kissing her cheek or looking for her at meals. And while at first, I had felt _abandoned_ by him— he proved that he was nothing but loyal to our friendship, despite his newfound love.

I wish more people were the same. With most of the students at our school, it was all about finding a _boyfriend_ or _girlfriend_. Part of me worried that was what George was looking for— a girlfriend to parade around like a trophy.

I didn't want that. The majority of my life my mother had been doing the same thing to me— I didn't want to be a doll, perfect and flawless. I wanted it to be okay if I was messed up and hurt and _broken_ — so I didn't want to be with George. And I couldn't now— not when it'd ruin Kia.

__

_I was late getting back to the Dorms. It was the night after the Task and I couldn't calm down. My hair stunk of the lake water and was surely frizzy and knotted by now. My legs held mud stains and my hands were freezing. But, I wasn't thinking of any of that— and neither was Kia._

_Our roommates were in the Common Room partying— probably drunk off their asses by the time I got inside. Kia was in only her nightdress and a pair of long socks. She didn't seem very party-ready, she actually looked pretty nervous. I stopped halfway through taking off my dirty clothes, wincing as I looked at a cut I hadn't noticed, on my shoulder. I glanced over at Kia, raising an eyebrow._

_"Is my shoulder jacked up?"_

_She seemed to snap from whatever daze she was in, stepping towards me in the darkness. Surprisingly warm hands touched my bare shoulder as I stood in just a tank top and my pants._

_"You're fine, Doe."_

_I turned towards her, cocking my head. She was acting weird. "Are you drunk or something, Pucey? You're acting like an idiot— "_

_"Me? God, you_ — _you're such a . . . " She stopped, staring at me. It seemed as though she was at a loss._ _I raised an eyebrow, questioning the gaze she wore holding something other than hate, for once._

 _"What? Cat got your_ — _"_

_It took a second to register her face in front of mine._ _And another to realize her lips were on mine. Then two more for me to acknowledge that although the feeling wasn't exactly . . . bad, it felt nothing compared to when George kissed me. I pulled away._

_Her face crumbled. I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could she was shoving me back. I tripped, almost falling— she ran._


	27. Twenty-Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abuse warning. Nothing extremely major, notes have a recap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter was a little bit dark. Sorry about that. I'll try to squeeze in some . . . ew, fluff next chapter. Also, I know I said I'd close the Q&A stuff after I updated next, but because some of my awesome readers don't follow me, I'm leaving it open until I publish Part 28. Check my announcement for details.
> 
> RECAP: Cedric tries to talk to Theo about summer plans and why she shouldn't go home and to her mother. Harry accidentally eavesdropped, so Theo just says fuck it and tells him the bare minimum after the Third Task is revealed; she says her mom sometimes put her in a closet as punishment and would occasionally slap and/or kick her, however, she doesn't see it as abuse because she wasn't covered with bruises or scarred physically. Which . . . it is, btw. Abuse is abuse and I hope nobody suffers or has suffered from the pain of abuse. Then, Krum comes up and we see crazy Crouch a couple minutes later. Theo chases after Crouch into the woods, like a dumbass, and gets lost. She's not used to being in the woods at night or when it's so quiet and after talking and thinking so much about the bad stuff that she went through as a child throughout the day, she has somewhat of a flashback. McGon-Gon finds her and while she's hesitant to follow the stern woman out, she is led to safety at the school.
> 
> WORD COUNT: 2254

_**THEO** _

~

 **"DOE, WE NEED TO** talk. _Now."_ Cedric declared, pulling me by my elbow.

Confused, I let him lead me into an empty corridor near the Great Hall, still half asleep from the boring Prefect meeting after lunch. The usually pristine Hufflepuff had bags under his eyes and a tired face that didn't match the warming weather. It was late March, the perfect time for everyone at school to relax before OWLs and NEWTs.

"Ced? Is something— "

"What are we going to do about the summer?"

I raised an eyebrow in confusion. "What do you mean— I thought your parents were taking you to Greece or something for the summer?"

"But, I can't just— . . . " He cupped my face with his hands, thumbs rubbing the space below my eyes. "I don't want to leave you, Dosie."

"Come on, it'll be _fine,_ Digg."

"I don't— I don't like this. I don't trust _her_ — she's going to do something, Theo." His hands went to wrap around my shoulders, pulling me against his chest. "I just _know it_."

Forcing a laugh, I let Cedric hug me for a few seconds. I was confused— _beyond_ confused, at this point. Less than a week ago, Cedric would barely even talk to me. But, with the sudden gust of warm weather— well, warm compared to the _freezing_ winter we'd just had —Cedric's anger seemed to melt away with the snow, replaced by _worry_. A whole bunch of it.

Pulling away, my eyes unintentionally locked with a set of bright green orbs— _Harry_.

"I'm going to write my mum— maybe you can come with us."

I snapped attention back to my friend, smiling despite knowing it'd be of no use. There was no way in hell my mom would _ever_ let me stay with another family over the summer. Cedric grinned back, oblivious.

"Alright, Ced— enough of this touchy-feely _crap._ I'll see you at dinner." Patting his shoulder, I began to retreat, hoping to get away from all of this _pity_ Cedric emitted.

__

Despite the warming weather, I was still cold. Cedric offered his jacket, but I refused, claiming I was perfectly content. The once familiar leather jacket I used to wear everywhere now rested on my shoulders, feeling heavy and awkward. I don't remember the last time I wore it; the winter months required heavy cloaks or coats, leaving the leather useless for a long time.

Now, I felt like I had outgrown it. Somehow I had _changed_ again and hadn't even realized it. Cedric was somehow a pillar integral to my structure, yet the people I'd stuck by since my First Year— Cassius, Adrian, _Kia_ —they were shadows and memories, people I didn't really _think of_. I felt the urge to hurl at the mere thought of how dependent of Cedric I had become. It was unhealthy to be close to anyone— mother taught me that early on. But, I couldn't even _try_ to stop myself. It was all so confusing and awkward.

Everything was unfamiliar to me now.

I stared out at the Quidditch Pitch— or what remained of it, at least. Tall hedges covered the once smooth surface, disrupting what _used to be_ a refuge for me.

It was the next task, I realized as Bagman approached. The Third Task was a—

"Maze." Grunted Krum, face stone.

"That's right!" Bagman beamed, "A maze. The Third Task simple; the Triwizard Cup will be placed in the center. The first pair of Champions to touch it win the Tournament."

I glanced at Cedric and the other delegates. Determined faces looked towards the pitch, showing no worry.

"It's just a maze?" I questioned, looking at the slow-growing shrubbery. After facing a dragon and _drowning_ , this seemed . . . _lame_. Easy. Simple.

"There _will_ be obstacles. Hagrid will be _lending_ us some creatures and of course, there will be spells that need breaking . . . you know, that sort of stuff." Bagman grinned at us. "Now, the Champions who are in the lead will enter first— that's all _three_ of our Hogwarts Champions. Next is . . . "

I zoned out, getting caught up in the vastness of the maze. The more I looked around, the more my hands shook and the dryer my throat got. I felt on edge and I didn't like it.

Within a few minutes, Bagman was done talking and began directing us back inside the castle. Glancing at Harry, I paused. Cedric did the same, looking back at me. The glow from the school's lights made his copper hair shine a bit and for a second he looked angelic. "Doe?"

"Uh, you go on ahead." I offered a small smile. "I'm just going to talk to Hagrid for a second."

Watching him retreat, I quickly turned, going after Harry. "Potter!"

The Boy Who Lived turned, cocking an eyebrow. "Theo?"

"Listen, what you saw earlier— it wasn't what you think." I tried to explain, breathing heavy as I stopped next to him.

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you think I saw?"

"Cut the crap," I sighed, leaning forward, head hung low. "Cedric just— it's . . . My mom— my mom isn't a very _nice_ person sometimes."

"What does that _mean_ — does she . . . ?"

"Listen, I'll tell you _whatever_ you wanna know," I held out my pinky. "But you have to swear you won't tell your parents or my— or _Sirius_."

"The Unbreakable Vow?" He asked with wide eyes, looking at my hand.

"What— no. _Christ_ , it's a pinky promise, idiot."

Lacing my pinky with his, I looked him straight in the eye. _Maybe an Unbreakable Vow would be better._

"I _promise_. I won't tell my parents or Sirius."

I nodded, letting go of him and stepping back a few steps. Closing my eyes, I attempted to figure out what to _do_ — how did you just _talk_ about something like this?

"Theo?" Harry prompted in a worried tone. "What— when Cedric said . . . "

"He's worried she'll . . . that she'll, uh, _hurt_ me." I gave in, voice shaking slightly. I felt so _stupid_ for saying that out loud.

For a minute, it was silent. I could hear Harry breath deeply as he asked _that_ question. "Has she?"

I blinked, looking up and meeting his intense stare. "I don't— not really. It's not a big deal, _swear_."

"What has she . . . what did she _do_?"

I thought back on it, wondering what she _had_ done. The things she did weren't _abuse_ — I wasn't getting beaten black and blue every night or anything. It was just . . . some little things. Pulling me by my hair, shoving me— locking me in the closet whenever I messed up too bad. It wasn't always— it just wasn't never.

"Harry," I said— _begged_. I didn't want to say it. He'd overreact.

"Could I _haff_ a _vord_?" Appearing from seemingly nowhere, Krum awkwardly looked between us, scratching his neck. 

"Yeah— yeah," I looked back at Harry. "We were just— . . . what do you need?"

Glancing at me in a way that suggested he meant him and _Harry_ , not me, Krum spoke gruffly. "I _vant_ to know _vot_ is there between you and _Hermy-own-ninnie."_

I fought the urge to laugh, recalling the dumb article calling Harry and Hermione _lovers_ or something. It was pretty funny. Still, Harry looked shocked.

Realizing this conversation didn't really affect me, I pushed Harry's head _semi-jokingly_ , walking towards the castle as the boys talked. The three of us had ended up pretty far on accident; Harry and I had been walking for a _while_ , I guess. I hadn't really noticed.

I barely made in fifteen feet before Harry shouted. Nearly dropping my wand, I ran back towards them, assuming the worst. _Krum had waited until he had Harry alone so he could kill him or_ —

"Theo!"

I nearly crashed into the Fourth Year, eyes going wide as I took in the scene. Krum and Harry stood in front of a crazed looking Mr. Crouch. The man had bloody tears on his robes and was muttering incoherent things that didn't make any sense. I was tempted to run back to the castle, but something about the insane man's ramblings kept me from moving.

"Must . . . tell . . . Dumbledore . . . " He ranted, looking around with wide eyes.

Hesitating, Harry stepped closer, hands held out. "Mr. Crouch, I can take you to him— "

"Who— . . . you?"

"We're students at the school," I jumped in, keeping my distance.

"Not his?"

Krum shook his head. "No."

I looked around as the boys continued talking to him, the light of the castle far away. Talking was getting us nowhere— someone needed to go tell Dumbledore. I grabbed Harry's shoulder, leaning up to talk to him.

"Go— tell someone." I swallowed, ready to run myself. "We'll watch him."

Pushing the Fourth Year away, I watched him run for a minute before turning back to the bizarre Mr. Crouch and Krum. He glared at the old man, stepping back towards me. "Maybe _ve_ should just go— he's mad."

"No," I spoke without thinking, looking up at the taller boy. "We faced _fucking_ dragons— I won't be scared off by some crazy old man."

A low shout left Crouch before he launched into the forest.

" _Vell_ , he's gone now." He said, sighing.

I shook my head at Krum, backing towards the woods. "I know these woods better than nearly anyone— I'll find him."

Turning around, I ducked into the woods, chasing after the crazed man. I was Doe _fucking_ Marx— no old man would scare me.

__

I didn't like the silence or the dark. Or maybe I did, but I didn't like when it was dark _and_ quiet— it was hard to tell. But, the silence of the night was— it was fucking _trippy_. The branches cast shadows over everything, my already crappy vision failing me in the darkness— these woods that I had walked through dozens of times, they were suddenly unfamiliar, alien.

I listened for Crouch, trying to follow the sounds of his feet. But, there was _nothing_. It was just quiet and dark and _scary_.

I don't know how long I walked in the woods, looking for _something_. Not even Crouch anymore, but just a way out. I got turned around and stuck until eventually I just _stopped_. Hands shaking, I fell to my knees as they gave out. It was quiet and dark and—

_"Control yourself, Theodosia," Mom ordered, pushing me off of her. "You need to stop this— you're ten now. Act like it."_

_I fell back into the closet, a cloud of dust turning up and filling my lungs. Squinting, I looked at my mother, tears trailing down my cheeks. "Mama, I didn't mean too— "_

_"Enough."_

_The door closed. I wrapped my arms tight around myself and buried my face in my knees. The scratchy dress irritated my cheeks, but I didn't dare move. It was quiet and dark and scary. I hated the closet._

"Miss Black?"

I looked up, breath shallow. _McGonagall_.

"I— I tried to find him."

She nodded, face tight. She looked stern and strict as always, making me wary. I didn't want to get up; I didn't want to leave the shell I had retreated into. I didn't want this— I didn't want her here.

My hands shook. My knees locked. I couldn't catch my breath. "Sorry, I'm sorry. I'm—I'm— "

"It's alright. You did the right thing."

Despite the shakiness of my limbs and air unable to enter my lungs, I pushed myself up, flinching back as the professor offered her hand— I didn't want her hand.

I focused on the glow of her wand. Not her, just the wand and the light— just the light. I started to walk.


	28. Twenty-Eight

**_THEO_ **

**_~_ **

**I MISSED TWO DAYS** of class before Ivy threw a note at my face. It was from Snape, demanding I head to the dungeons after I ate. Instead of going to dinner, I forced myself to change out of my pajamas, aware of the ratty look of my hair and how red my eyes were. Pulling my hair— just long enough to put back —into a ponytail, I headed towards Snape's office just as other Slytherins returned from their meal.

In the few days of class I had missed, nothing had changed. The potions room still stunk of Frog Eye and worse ingredients. Knocking on the door to Snape's office, I didn't bother waiting before entering the room, raising an eyebrow at my Head of House. "You _summoned_ me?"

"You've missed the past two days of classes— including Potions."

"I'm sick." I stated, faking a cough.

The stern man didn't seem to buy it, tsking at me. "Professor McGonagall informed me of your . . . _trip_ into the Forbidden Forest— "

"It was no biggie," I insisted, pushing my glasses up my nose— _I had been too lazy to put in contacts._ "Really. I just got lost and— and— "

"You're usually a better liar than this, Marx."

Sighing, I slouched where I stood. "I just— what do you _want_ from me? What should I say?"

"Go to the kitchens. Eat something. Sleep." He sighed, leaning back in his seat. "You can have tomorrow and the weekend, but then I expect you in _all_ of your classes Monday. No excuses."

"I'll handle it."

"Don't just _handle_ it, Marx. _Deal_ with it— whatever this is." Gaze going hard, his tone turned harsh. "You represent all of Slytherin now— don't ruin this chance you've been given."

Nodding, I began to leave. "I'll fix everything, professor. _Promise_."

__

I sneered as a cat brushed past my leg, stinking of something rotten. " _Ew_ — I hate cats."

"You seem to hate everything," George muttered from my side.

Looking at my feet, I sighed. Everything seemed _weird_ — I didn't like it. I didn't like that I _cared_. Fuck— I was such a— _fuck_.

"I'm— "

George cut me off with a wave of his hand. "I'd rather not talk, Theodosia."

"Then why— what are you _doing_ , George?" I couldn't help but huff, stopping in my tracks. For the past five minutes, we'd been walking through the streets of Hogsmeade in silence.

The redhead sighed, shrugging as he looked at the ground. "I'm walking with my girl— "

"I'm _not_ your girl. Stop— just stop— "

"Stop what, _love_?" He looked up at me, sad eyes meeting mine. "Stop ignoring you? Because if I do, we'll start talking and have to deal with this, ending with us parting ways once and for all. Do you really want to be alone?"

A sigh escaped me. _No_. "Yes. Go back to _Kia_ , why don't you?"

"Are you _really_ still hung up on that? After what happened after the ball?" He practically shouted, hair falling in his face. He needed a haircut, but I can't help but find the long locks . . . 

_Shut up. Handle this and move on. You told Snape that you would._

"You need to stop _distracting_ me— alright?" I insisted, gnawing on my cheek. "I need to focus on the Task."

"Theo— "

I looked away from him, unable to meet his eyes— or maybe just unwilling. Because, if I looked at him, he'd look at me and then we'd end up doing something entirely dumb and reckless and _dangerous_ —

"You probably kissed _her_ too," I ground out. "You— you _jackass."_

"Oh, _I'm_ the jackass? Merlin, Theodosia, you're such an _idiot_ sometimes."

He walked closer to me, kissing me quickly. Barely able to process his lips on mine, I pulled back from that awful, fulfilling _warmth_ , shoving him from me.

" _Dammit!_ "

This was supposed to be quick and uncomplicated. No kissing, no feelings— _Weasley is getting in my_ _fucking_ _head_.

"You— I just . . . " I trailed off, leaning against the brick of the alley we were in. "Fuck."

"You're the one who wanted to talk."

I scoffed, shaking my head. " _Talk_ — not suck face! Jesus _Christ_ , George."

Pushing my glasses up my nose, I sighed. The lenses had fogged up slightly with the sudden heat and I regretted wearing them instead of my glasses. But, I was tired and didn't think and—

"God, I just need to fucking _breathe_ , man." I exhaled, pulling my glasses off to clean on my tee. "This whole year— maybe my whole goddamned _life_ . . . It's too much for me. Everything's falling apart and I _can't_ —"

"Fine."

"Fine?" I questioned, shoving my glasses back on as quickly as I took them off.

George nodded, though his next words were harsh. " _Fine_ — do whatever _you_ need and I'll just wait. That's what you want, right?"

"George— "

"I'll put everything on hold so you can worry about Cedric _fucking_ Diggory." The redhead shrugged away my attempt to grab his shoulder. " _Fine_."

As George stormed away, I sagged into myself, suddenly cold. Part of me wanted to go after him— to do something dumb like _kiss_ him.

But, I couldn't. George _had_ to be put aside, just for now. Until this dumb _thing_ was over, at least.

__

Unable to get anything _real_ to drink, I settled for the comfort of a Butterbeer thirty minutes after George and me. . . 

"Theodosia?" A familiar stranger questioned, awkwardly standing in front of me, oblivious to my sulking. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Who the fuck are you?" I bit, thoroughly confused.

"I— uh, I'm _Dean._ We— we need to talk." He pushed hair from his face, looking around nervously. "It's about your dad."


	29. Twenty-Nine

_**THEO** _

_**~** _

**I WAS NEVER VERY** good at keeping positive. It was hard to _keep my head up_ or whatever, especially when my cynicism and what Cedric called _bad energy_ got involved.

But, I was really trying. For Cedric— for myself. All of the pettiness was getting to me and it somehow took George and I . . . 

I didn't know— we weren't dating, so we couldn't have _broken up_. I wasn't dumb enough to think we had been friends. Whatever it was we were or _could've been_ , it was over now. Stopped before it started.

The past couple of days since, I'd been avoiding all Weasley's like the plague. I never realized just how _many_ of them were at Hogwarts.

The one respite I had was the library. None of the four Weasley's at Hogwarts tended to willingly spend time in the dusty room, even when exams closed in on us.

As a Fifth Year, I was expected to take them the week after the Task, just like anyone else. Most people were cramming non-stop, terrified of failing. First Years had practically been banned from the Slytherin Common Room and study groups quickly formed after winter break.

I hadn't really thought of it much. Sure, I wanted to do well and it would be a great distraction from _everything_ , but I couldn't sit still long enough to focus. Not after everything Dean said at Hogsmeade and not after everything I did to George.

Everything was totally _fucked_.

But, I was still _trying_. Cedric was off with Cho most days, but I still had the Slytherins— kind of. Adrian was pissed at me; he didn't know what happened, but he knew I hurt Kia and that was enough for him to shut me out. Cassius was being pressured at home to be _Outstanding,_ even if it meant cheating— he was growing more and more paranoid that someone would catch him leaning spells to copy off other people's exams. I thought his nervousness was what would get him caught.

Despite all of that, we still met up every night in the Common Room and studied together, mostly because there wasn't anyone else to turn to. Flint, as well as the other upperclassmen, had already taken their NEWTS and had left early since there isn't any Quidditch. Any other Slytherin's were . . . alien, different. We didn't trust each other, but at least we knew each other.

It was almost like Third Year again, back before all of this _nonsense_ , when we were just dumb, mostly innocent pre-teens.

Except, Cassius was sleep-deprived, Adrian would barely say more than three words to me, and I was . . . sad.

For once, the emotion I felt wasn't anger— I wasn't _angry_ at George or the school or _anything_. I was just _sad_.

__

The morning of the Third Task approached much too soon. I barely got a wink of sleep the night before and instead of skipping my classes to _sleep_ , I was told to meet my _family_ after breakfast. Only a few possible people could claim to be my _family_ ; my mother— who refused to leave America, _ever;_ Harry— who I refused to acknowledge; Dean and _Sirius_. 

Either way, my palms started to sweat as I neared the door, forcing myself inside.

Black hair, the same as mine, framed his face messily. Grey eyes searched mine for a reaction. Pale, scarred hands reached towards me.

"Sirius?" I breathed, fighting the bile crawling up my throat.

He wasn't here— he couldn't be here. I couldn't— 

"I'm sorry for surprising you." He teetered back on the balls of his feet, glancing towards Skeeter. "Can we talk?"

I gestured outside, hand shaking slightly. "Q— Quidditch Pitch. Ten minutes."

Barely catching his nod, I hurried from the room, trying to stop last night's dinner from coming back up. _What am I doing?_

Sirius hurt me. I might not remember it, but he left— he's the one who _left_. It isn't and shouldn't be my job to sit and listen to whatever excuse he could come up with. I was _hurt_ because of him, _broken_ because of him—

He ruined me. And Dean.

The thought of the blond Fourth Year made the urge to hurl grow as I stumbled through the halls half-blind. My contacts itched, my lungs constricted— everything became a million times more obvious, but all I wanted was for it to just _stop_.

I wanted a pause, a break, a chance to breathe.

Ever since Dean cornered me at the pub, I hadn't been able to properly _breathe_. 

__

The wind whipped my hair around my face as I trudged through the grass, stopping before the maze that had overtaken the Pitch. I frowned, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my jacket. Even under the June sun, a breeze insisted on invading my every crevice, chilling me steadily.

Part of me missed America as the air tortured me. I didn't like summers— they always involved yelling and my _mother_ —but I loved the sunshine and heat. It nearly never got above _sixty_ , let alone seventy. Sometimes, I'd sneak away and go swim at the public pool while my mother was at work. My hair would get messy and sometimes my skin would itch from the chemicals the muggles used, but it would be worth it— far worth it, even if I never dared to go past four feet deep.

I thought of the summer, once I got home. I could go to the bank and trade in some of my prize money for American No-Maj currency— then I could get lessons. I'd learn how to swim without some spell— maybe I'd even find a way to join Cedric for a week or two at the end of summer. I could practically _feel_ the sunshine on my face, invading my senses with the stench of chlorine and the feeling of water pool around my ankles.

"Theodosia— "

I snapped back to reality, blinking as I saw the grey landscape around me. No matter how sunny it got, Hogwarts never felt the way America did.

"Just— . . . " I held up my hand, trying my best to keep steady. "I don't _want_ you here, Sirius. You _aren't_ my family."

"I know I haven't been around much, but it was just too hard— "

"And it was _hard_ growing up without _parents_."

"Do you— . . . " He hesitated, looking at me with furrowed brows. "What do you mean by that?"

"I know."

"Say it— say what it is you . . . _you know_."

"You— you _lied!"_ I finally yelled, angry fingers ripping at my hair. "Dean _told_ me! You said— . . . you said you were my _family_ — my _dad."_

Tears stung at my eyes as they fell down his cheeks. The raven-haired man attempted to take a step forward, reaching for me. I jerked back, falling to the ground as I tripped over myself. "Theo, _please_ — "

"Fuck you! _Fuck you_ , Sirius!" I screeched, kicking him away.

"Stop— Theo, _stop_." He grabbed my wrists, attempting to stop my assaults. "Your _father_ — "

" _I hate you!"_

__

_I didn't know what to do. Hell, I couldn't even— how could I deal with this. Of all things— him?_

_"So," I looked down at my hands, unable to meet his gaze. "You grew up with Remus?"_

_"Uh, yeah. For the most part, it was just him and me— we moved a lot, not so much anymore." He fumbled with something in his bag, pushing a wrinkled photo towards me. "I found this in some old box."_

_I traced a finger over the figures, recognizing the Potter's, Remus, and Sirius. A woman with short blonde hair stood still, hair blowing around her slightly. And next to her, with an arm wrapped around her waist and head angled towards her own, was someone I couldn't help but find familiar. He had the same dark hair as Sirius, the same sharp features, and they both had the same smile. But, it wasn't Sirius; he was a bit skinnier and a lot more stern-looking. From the pins on their robes, they belonged to Slytherin and Ravenclaw, respectively._

_"That's mom." He smiled slightly, pointing to the woman and moving to the other stranger. "And that's . . . Regulus."_

_"Regulus?" I questioned, furrowing my brow. I knew that name_ — _I_ ** _knew_** _it._

_Dean nodded, leaning back in his seat. "Regulus Black— my father."_

_"So— we're . . . cousins?" The word felt odd on my tongue, like it didn't belong._

_"No— no, Theodosia. We aren't cousins." He reached forward, grasping my hand before I had a chance to stop him. "We're siblings."_


	30. Thirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp...
> 
> Ok, next chapter is it. The Third Task, the end of Fifth Year, but maybe the start of something else.
> 
> In case you haven't figured it out, Theo isn't Sirius Black's daughter. Sorry, I know the title makes it confusing, but I didn't want this to be an x George fic and I wanted you to be as surprised as Theo when you figured it out. Please don't spoil it for anyone not caught up and comment on your thoughts or questions

**THEO**

**~**

**THIS WASN'T WHAT I** wanted. Since starting at Hogwarts, I'd done my best to avoid any connection to Sirius. Dropping _Black_ from my surname, dying my hair, diving as far into Slytherin culture as I could; For _Five_ years, I'd practically been the opposite of Harry. I got drunk, I fought— I wasn't a good person.

But now, it wasn't about being bad or good— it was about winning.

I did what I always do in a tough situation— I ran. Ran away from Sirius and into the forest, entering for the first time since the night with Crouch. The sun was still shining and birds chirped— it was calm and peaceful, despite the furious beating of my heart and the loud smack of my feet against the forest floor.

A pair of arms grabbed me before I fully disappeared into the woods, nearly tackling me in an effort to make me stop. I winced even though I wasn't in pain, shuddering as my breathing calmed. Tears stung my eyes but I tried my hardest to keep them from falling, tried my hardest to keep myself upright, tried my hardest to keep my eyes shut.

"Theodosia," He _begged_ , arms slowly releasing me.

My eyes forced themselves open, meeting his with hesitance. I used to hate my eyes— grey bulbs matching the steel shade people claimed the Black family was known for.

"I'm not your— " My voice cracked, the words choking me. 

His hands reached for my face, cupping my cheeks hesitantly. I let him, too confused and _tired_ to stop him. "Your dad— _my brother_ —loved you so, _so_ much."

"He's dead?" I questioned with shaking hands.

Sirius nodded, pushing hair from my face. "We thought it'd be best if we said you were mine— "

"We?"

"James, Remus— "

I stepped back, away from his grasp. "What about Dean— how did he know?"

"I don't _know_ — he must've found something."

"I can't— I can't deal with this." I moved further away, towards the direction I knew the school was in. "I'll deal with all this _crap_ you've caused after the Task."

"I'll see you at the Feast, then?" He questioned with hesitance. "I'm guessing you want to sit with the _Slytherins_?"

I sighed, refusing to turn back. Even with all of the _shit_ we just talked about, he sounded so _angry_ about the whole _Slytherin_ thing. This _stranger_ who paraded around as my fucking _dad_ for my whole life— he thought he had the _right_ to judge me. 

"No— just sit with Harry," I responded, pushing through the trees. "I don't need you there."

__

A half-hour before the feast, I was shaken awake from the restless slumber I'd fallen into upon entering the Slytherin Dorms— my one retreat from Sirius. No way Snape would let some _Gryffindor_ into _his_ House.

Looking up at Kia, I wondered for a second if I was dreaming. In her hands was my uniform for the Task— long sleeve and pants — along with a brush and a green hair ribbon.

"You can't win the cup in _those_." She proclaimed, ordering me to change. I looked at my now-wrinkled school uniform

Raising an eyebrow, I took the clothes without a word, not daring to disturb whatever had taken over Kia. She hadn't spoken to me in what felt like forever, yet here she was— ready to _help_ me.

Pulling the stretchy material over my head, I fought the shiver crawling up my stomach. Something felt off about this tournament. Figuring it was just nerves, I pulled on the pants as well, tightening the belt around my waist. Kia began brushing my hair while I laced my boots tightly, fingers surprisingly gentle. I wondered if she secretly wanted to rip the strands from my scalp, but she gave no indication. 

"Don't fuck this up," She said as she tied off the braid with a green ribbon. "You're Theodosia _fucking_ Marx— don't let any _one_ of those _bitches_ get in your way."

I nodded, retrieving my wand from the nightstand and tucking it into the waist of my pants. Shrugging on my jacket, I looked at Kia, offering a tired smile. "Thank you."

She offered a shaky smile, looking down. "Yeah."

"I'm really sorry about— "

"It's . . . it's _fine."_ The way her lips twitched downward every few seconds said otherwise, but I knew better than to question it.

Merlin, I'd missed this. A small laugh left me as our eyes met.

"This kinda reminds me of Second Year— "

"Before your Quidditch Try-Outs?" She finished, nodding. "Yeah, I remember."

__

_My hands couldn't stop shaking. Long black hair whipped around my face as I searched for my other sneaker, heart racing. I was going to be late— late for what could be the start of my career as a Pro Quidditch Player._

_I mean, probably not, but a girl could dream. . ._

_"Doe— Doe!"_

_I stopped my frantic search, looking up at Kia. From her hand dangled my left shoe. "You threw it in the bathroom cause you thought you saw a spider— remember?"_

_Nodding, I took the shoe, heart refusing to slow. As I laced up my shoes, nimble fingers thread through my hair, pulling it from my face. I jerked, a flash of my mother coming to mind. "Kia? What are you doing?"_

_"Your hair is much too long." She informed, twisting the long locks into a braid. "It won't get in the way braided."_

_"Thanks."_

__

"Ivy, Adrian and the rest of us will be in the stands— front row." She pulled on her own shoes, lacing them quickly. "Cassius is making his little brother save us seats early."

I nodded, walking out the door with Kia at my side. Her hand rested on my shoulder in a tight grip as we walked through the dungeons and towards the Great Hall, grounding me.

This was it. The end of all this chaos— finally.


	31. Thirty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was originally split into three parts, so that's why some transitions are a little wonky.

**_THEO_ **

**~**

**CEDRIC'S HAND WAS CLUTCHING** mine with an iron-clad grip, stinging slightly. I did nothing to pull away, fiercely holding him with the same force. We were about to enter the maze— things were about to change forever. I could practically _feel_ the weight of the gold in my hands, _see_ the grin Cedric would wear proudly as we face the crowd, _hear_ them all cheering for us. Like a blanket, I was _drenched_ in a feeling that everything would turn out all right. Cedric and I would _win_ — we'd make it.

It seemed like Cedric couldn't feel that same warmth. For once, _I_ was the one who had to be positive. "Ced, it's going to be _fine_ — "

"Dosie," Was all he said— voice practically a plead. I realized suddenly that this was killing him— the warm glow vanished. 

My free hand reached towards his shirt, tapping the badge hanging on his shoulder. The green and silver Prefect badge glimmered under the night sky, a reminder of our talk during the feast.

__

_"I like your hair."_

_Turning, my face split into a smile as I saw Cedric standing behind me. I had been alone at the end of the table, poking at my food in boredom. Adrian and Cassius had skipped the feast to study for our OWLS, while Kia was with Ivy at the other end of the table. Every once in a while, some First Year would try and wish me luck, but I was utterly alone otherwise._

_"Do you want to join us?" He questioned, gesturing to where his parents were sitting at Hufflepuff._

_I fought a smile, glancing at the Ravenclaw table. Dean was emersed in some book, looking perfectly content and absolutely alone. "Yeah . . . can I bring someone else, too?"_

_Giving me a look of confusion, the golden-haired boy nodded nonetheless, following my gaze. I stood, pulling Cedric towards the table of blue. Tapping on Dean's shoulder, I hesitantly smiled at him._

_"Ced, I'd like you to meet my brother," I rested my hand on the Fourth Year's shoulder. "This is Dean."_

___

_After some awkward small talk, Cedric and I were called away with the other Champions. Hesitating, I ruffled Dean's hair and grinned at the Diggory's. I watched Cedric pause at Ravenclaw and kiss Cho quickly, cheeks blushing red as we walked away._

_As we grew closer to the Quidditch Pitch-turned-maze, Cedric's face dropped more and more. Pausing, I forced Cedric to stop with me, reaching into my jacket. "Do you have your badge?"_

_Raising an eyebrow, he nodded, fumbling with his coat. Flashing my silver-and-green badge, I fastened it on the arm of his shirt. Catching my idea, he pinned his above my heart, offering a small smile._

_"There," I said, beaming. "Now, you're stuck with me, Diggory."_

__

"You know . . . " He cupped my cheek with one hand. "I really love you, Dosie."

"I— I . . . " I swallowed, breathing deep. "I love you, too."

Bagman's amplified voice interrupted our conversation, making me realize how close we were to finishing this. In an hour's time, Cedric and me would be standing on some pedestal as people cheered for us.

"In first place— Miss Theodosia Black and Mr. Harry Potter are tied with eighty-five points each!" He boomed, laughing as he spoke. "In second place, with eighty points— Mr. Cedric Diggory and Mr. Viktor Krum!" I looked around, confused. "And in third place, both Beauxbatons delegates and Mr. Pietro Romanov!"

Leaning towards Cedric, I raised an eyebrow. "Why are we being scored individually?"

"I'm— I'm not sure." He finally said, seemingly shocked.

"So, Harry and Theodosia . . . on my mark."

Someone jumped up, taking my jacket from me as I shrugged it off. I sent the Ministry Official a wary look, forcing myself forward towards the starting line.

"See you on the other side, Diggy." I forced a smile, glancing at him one last time.

The whistle blew sharply and I bolted, Harry on my tail. Shouting _Lumos_ , I used my wand as a guide as we journeyed into the maze. Fifty yards in, we hit a fork. I glanced at Harry, sending him a look of what I hoped was confidence.

"Be careful," I muttered, ducking right.

The whistle blew again and I fought the urge to go look for Cedric, forcing myself further into the maze. Feeling trapped and lost, I rested my wand on my palm, whispering to it. " _Point me."_

Making a sharp turn, I almost crashed into a—

"Mom?"

The tall woman looked ghastly in the shadows of the maze, her glare stern and withering. It had been nearly a year since I last saw my mother, but she was as _terrifying_ as when I was nine. I nearly stopped breathing, scared beyond belief.

"Who do you think you are?" She hissed, sharp nails reaching towards me. "Walking around like _this_ — you are a disgrace, a _mistake!_ "

"No— _no!"_ I backed away, hitting the shrubbery and letting twigs dig into my back. "You can't _be_ here!"

" _Riddikulus!"_

A loud crack and suddenly my mother exploded into a wisp of smoke. Harry stood in it's wake, wand out. I nodded in thanks, speechless.

Moving on, I nearly hit an oversized Blast-Ended Skrewt, backing up quickly and turning a different corner. I could have sworn I _felt_ the aura surrounding a Dementor, but once more I retreated. It made me feel like a coward, but I couldn't help it. The silence was deafening and my breath caught in my throat.

_Stop. You're fine. It's fine._

Pushing onwards, I tried to steady myself, clutching the gold pin over my heart.

A piercing scream sent me to the ground, my wand rolling from my hands. The distinctly woman-like scream vibrated through my body and I could have sworn it was my mother.

Cold hands crept up my shoulders, grazing my neck before reaching for my hair. With trouble, I forced my eyes open, finding a gnarled face inches from mine. Letting out a shriek of my own, I shoved the deathly _thing_ away, tripping over myself in an attempt to get back. The earth-shattering screech continued, the monster's mouth open wide, flashing rows of what seemed like blood-stained teeth.

Spotting the magical stick a few feet behind the _thing_ , I lunged. My knees skid against the grass painfully, but it was nothing compared to the sharp scratch the beast trailed down my back as my hand grasped my wand. Crying out, I forced myself onto my injured back, pointing my wand at the _thing_ I recognized as a banshee.

" _Silencio!"_ I shouted with all my might, head throbbing.

 _Silence_.

I breathed deeply as I was met with the quiet, letting myself lay down for only a minute before forcing my eyes open. The _thing_ — a banshee, I realized —was clawing at it's throat, mouth open in a silent scream.

I stood slowly, watching it retreat into the maze. Letting out a sigh of relief, I continued through the maze, wary of _everything_.

I used the compass charm a few more times, keeping quiet and quick. I barely believed it when I saw the hint of gold out of the corner of my eye.

" _Crucio!"_

I ducked to the ground, barely missing—

"Krum?"

__

 **EVERYTHING WAS WHITE AND** silent, save for a quill furiously scribbling down notes. Nobody dared to even _breathe_ in this tiny room the Ministry Officials had forced us into. The Ministry didn't waste any time questioning Harry and me. I could barely keep up— not when I was trying so hard not to _freak_. Tears trailed down my cheeks every few seconds— they couldn't seem to just _stop_. Thoughts of a funeral dress rang through my head. Did I even own something fitting for a funeral?

I suddenly burst into laughter. Tears fell from my face, and my throat hurt, but I still _laughed._ They all stared at me, but I couldn't stop.

"And what happened while they were— what happened next? With you, Miss Black?"

I blinked, looking up at the skittish man. "That's when Krum tried to kill me."

__

**_EARLIER THAT NIGHT_ **

____

I stumbled backward, wincing as my back hit the branches of the hedge. Holding up my wand, I warned him. " _Victor_ — stop it!"

His drew near, eyes clouded. Another curse was aimed my way and I deflected, just barely missing his attempt.

" _Stupefy!"_ I shouted, missing him in my hurry.

Suddenly, another figure appeared, golden hair glinting amongst the shadows. " _Expelliarmus! Stupefy!"_

Cedric casted in rapid succession, disarming Krum and disabling him. I breathed heavily, staring up at my friend, eyeing Harry a few feet behind him. It felt like an eternity before they reached me, Cedric's hand grasping mine. "The Goblet— I saw it, Ced!"

He nodded, pulling me upwards. "Are you alright?"

Nodding quickly, I looked between the two boys. "Well?"

"Should we just . . . leave him?" Cedric questioned.

Harry shook his head. "No, I reckon we should send up red sparks. Otherwise, some _Blast-Ended Skrewt_ might come— "

" _Periculum!"_ I called, wand aimed at the sky.

Both boys stared at me.

I shrugged, pulling Cedric with me on the right side of a fork. "Good look, little cousin."

__

I could see the goblet— or at least, I could have sworn I did. Cedric on my tail, I bolted down the path, a larg black mass blocking me just as I saw the glint of gold. The largest spider I had ever seen stood between me and the goblet, beady eyes glaring at me. I yelped, bounding backward before I could get bitten. 

I noticed Harry coming from the other path, nearly getting squashed the same way I almost was. I pulled him back by the shirt collar, nearly tripping myself. Looking between Cedric and Harry, I chewed on my bottom lip.

"Let's . . . " I trailed off, staring up at the giant spider. It seemed to be waiting for something. I couldn't help but shiver. " _Arania Exumai!"_

The repelling spell made the large beast reel back, a shot of webbing spraying a hedge as it tried to escape the power of the spell. Recovering quickly, it shot forward with a hiss, nearly succeeding in it's attempt to behead me.

" _Stupefy!"_ Harry shouted, causing it to jolt slightly and redirect it's vision.

Cedric stepped forward, shouting his own spell, but it had the same small effect that mine did. I tried the repelling spell once more, but it seemed to have adapted quickly. With a quick swipe, Cedric was hanging in the air, caught in it's grasped.

My heart stopped for a minute. Cedric— red-faced, a little bloody, and covered in dirt —looked down on me in horror, mouth open in a silent scream. I raised my wand, ready to send up red sparks and give up. Harry could win or Romanov— I didn't care.

" _Expelliarmus!"_ He shouted, sending Cedric propelling from the beast to the ground.

I dug my hands into Cedric's shoulder, pulling him up with me. The spider wasn't done, not yet. I pointed my wand once more, mostly out of desperation.

" _Stupefy!"_ I called. But, it wasn't only me. Two other voices shouted with me, three jets of light colliding and hitting the spider. The combined force of all of us casting did what none of us could do on our own. The giant spider hit the ground with a thundering smash, immobilized. A shocked laugh left me as we stood in it's wake, silence filling the space. Somewhere in the maze, the other champions were fighting their ways towards us.

Looking around, I smiled at Cedric, looking around for my cousin. "Harry?"

A flash of panic ran through me, but the scrawny boy appeared with a grin. My eyes caught the goblet and the sudden urge to run towards it overtook me. Grabbing my head, Cedric pulled me with him down the stretch of grass, Harry on our tail. The goblet looked nearly _magical_ — in a way that didn't involve actual _magic_ , but something very different. 

I grinned at both of the boys, gesturing towards it. "We won."

Harry took a step back. "You guys take it— you deserve it."

"Shut up." I insisted, rolling my eyes. "You've earned it just as much as us."

Cedric nodded in affirmation, eyes glinting as he gazed at the goblet. "We'll _all_ grab it. At the same time— a tie."

I grinned at Cedric, letting go of his hand to grasp the cool metal of the goblet. This was it. We had made it. Harry and Cedric's hands did the same, the three of us surrounding the object. A dizzy sensation hit me unexpectantly and suddenly we were _moving_. A Portkey, I realized dumbly.

I hit the ground hard, head smacking against the grass. Muffled shouts surrounded me and I struggled to process what was going on.

" _Kill the Spare."_ An unfamiliar voice hissed.

I forced my eyes open, searching for Cedric, for Harry.

A jet of green shot out, gone before I could do anything. Hefell to the ground, eyes open wide with shock. Hewasn't moving. _He_ — 

"Ced?"

__

 **PAIN. I FELT SO** much _pain_.

". . . I could not touch him." I blinked, gaining full consciousness. My head rolled to the side, catching Voldemort in front of Harry. "It was old magic, something I should have foreseen. But, no matter."

I pushed myself to my knees, hands grasping my wand as I struggled to stay upright.

"Things have changed, _I can touch you now_." The monster darted forward, pressing his hand onto my cousin. The fourteen-year-old screamed in pain as I watched.

Lifting my wand with a shaky hand, I shouted the first thing that came to mind. " _Imperio!_ "

The monster's hand jerked back, but my magic failed me a moment later. The bald man turned to me. "Look at that. Not many witches have the strength to cast an _Unforgivable Curse_. All for him?"

I threw him a cold sneer. "I don't like when people mess with what's mine."

I had to act tough, I had to be _brave_. Cedric wasn't moving— I needed to save him. I _needed_ him. The snake-like man drew towards me. I eyed Harry, locking eyes with him for only a second. He shook his head, but I only smirked. I forced myself to my feet, swallowing slowly. Everything felt hollow and the edges of my vision were blurry— nothing was right. I could smell the _rotten_ stench that followed the newly-revived beast, but I stared at him straight in the eye. I held my head up high despite the dizzy effect it had, keeping my wand low at my side, hidden in the darkness. Looking back at Harry once more, I flicked my wand towards him. The spell sailed straight to the statue holding him, my non-verbal spell working _somehow_ , the stone crumbling silently in the darkness.

"You think you're so tough? So evil?" I bit, shaking my head as I took small steps back. "You're _nothing."_

The Dark Lord raised his wand, buying into my taunts and following me away from Harry. "Let's see then— huh, _girl_?"

I cocked my head, reaching behind to my waistband slowly. I pulled the cool metal of my pocket knife from my pants. "I'm probably the most powerful witch in the last fifty years. I doubt some _half-blood_ like you could keep up— "

My words died in a choke as Voldemort towered over me, wand at my face. "You think you're so tough, _Black_? I killed your father _and_ your mother. It will be my pleasure to kill you."

I stared up at him, my hand whipping forward. I aimed for his stomach, but somehow missed. Still, he stumbled back in shock, staring down at the slash in his arm. I sneered, dropping the knife. The Dark Lord _bled._

I raised my wand instead, the worst curse on the tip of my tongue. " _Avada_ — "

" _Stupefy!_ " I stiffly fell onto my back, blasted away from the impact. I strained my eyes, staring at the writhing rat who _killed_ my friend. _My_ friend. My only fucking friend.

Peter Pettigrew stared down at me, wand in hand. I saw red. He stepped back into the shadows, leaving me frozen on the ground. I felt trapped, unable to do anything— I _was_ trapped. A blast sounded in the graveyard, and it felt like an eternity before I was able to move. My joints were stiff as I forced myself up, shaking.

I half-crawled towards the fallen goblet, everyone else seemingly entranced by Voldemort and Harry. I watched the younger teenager with awe, hand inches from the cup as a large force shot from their wands. Everything went black for a few seconds.

When I blinked again, they were bound by some sort of force. I could still see that _rat_ —

I raised my wand once more, feeling numb— wondering if I was dead. My voice was a broken whisper, barely there.

" _Avada Kedavra_."

Pettigrew's body hit the ground with a thump. I nodded to myself, letting my body go limp as I succumbed to the darkness for just a few seconds more.

When I came to, Harry was shaking me. I stumbled to stand, watching him grip Cedric— no, Cedric's _body_ with one hand and reach for the goblet with the other. I grabbed hold, eyes closing as we were whisked away.

__

_Her body lay limp next to Cedric's when they hit the ground. Harry was— Harry was finally falling apart. His parents came running— Cedric's parents came running. Hands pulled Harry away as parents held their dead son. Theo just laid there. Her eyes were open, staring at the night sky with glazed-over eyes._

_For a second, Sirius thought that she was dead. Remus and him were in the middle of the crowd, stuck as the chaos around them ensued. The coal-haired man sat frozen, watching as she closed her eyes._

_It should have been him going to her— comforting her. He was supposed to be her family— but, it was someone else who came to her aid. Severus Snape knelt next to Theodosia, shaking her shoulders lightly until she woke up. Sirius just watched as the man he spent his school years tormenting took care of his niece— the girl that **he** was supposed to care for and spoil. Before Regulus died, before he fucked it up so much. Before Elizabeth fucking Marx._

__

It was nearly a week after the Task and people couldn't seem to get the hint. Whether it was the Potter's— _and company_ —constantly visiting or the reporters or the _students_ who tried to shed _her_ tears, they just wouldn't leave me alone. Every waking moment was spent surrounded by a hoard of _people_. People who just wanted gossip or to feel like they mattered— people I wanted to punch, but couldn't punch because I was still so _fucking_ weak. It made me _sick_. Literally, physically sick. I had puked more times in the past week than in my whole _life_. It was this awful process of seeing something gold or yellow or anything that made me think of _him_ and crying and crying and _crying_ until I made myself sick. It _sucked._

After days in the Hospital Wing, I forced them to let me go outside. I just wanted to get away from _all of them_.

James offered to take me for a walk around the lake. Him, along with what seemed to be most of the Potter clan, were staying in Hogsmeade for Harry and _me_. Remus, this lady named _Marlene_ — everyone crowded around too much. And although I didn't really want _anyone_ around me, I accepted the offer instantly, because it meant I could _leave_.

Three others offered to go with, but I refused, pushing myself up from the hospital bed. Pulling my arms through my leather jacket— the only thing they'd _actually_ brought me from my dorm to wear outside —I allowed Madam Pomfrey to wrap a multi-colored scarf around my neck as I pulled on my boots.

It took nearly ten minutes to get outside, as James insisted on an unreasonably slow pace. I insisted I felt _fine_ — even though my lungs burned already —but the man was _stubborn_. As we neared the lake, I shoved my shaking hands into my pocket, one hand coming into contact with something _soft_.

Yanking my hand and the object from my pocket, I froze by the lake. A yellow hat filled my vision, making everything else go blurry.

_"You're going to catch a cold— "_

_"Cut it out, Diggy. I'm fine— "_

_"You won't be saying that when you have a fever_."

_"Oh, come on, Diggs. Don't you know everyone named Theodosia is invincible?"_

_"Dosie— "_

Everything seemed to snap back into focus. People were screaming— they wouldn't _stop_. I just wanted— _needed_ it to all stop. The world was closing in on me and no longer could I look away from those watching— the people looking at me for _entertainment_.

And then, I was running.

I ducked into the woods, branches cutting at me. I heard the shout of someone following me, but I was moving as fast as I could and I knew the woods well— even as tired and _pained_ as I was. I crashed into a tree, stumbling and falling on my back. I felt trapped, claustrophobic, and suddenly I was back in the graveyard. My head lolled to one side and suddenly Cedric's lifeless eyes stared at me.

I screamed.

__

He found me later. I couldn't move— I _couldn't_.

Still, James pulled me to my feet and made me walk a few feet before I fell yet again. Then, I was in the air and in his arms, swishing and swaying my way out of the forest to the waiting presence of the _eyes_. But, nobody was there. Everything was quiet— too quiet. I didn't like the quiet. But, I didn't like when it was loud— _what do I want?_

__

Days later, I got a visitor. Clad in black and green, he hesitantly walked in, trying to smile at me. I looked at Cassius, but all I saw was his father. It made me sick. Turning to Dean— my _brother_ , I ducked my head. "Can you- just, just make him leave? Can you make them all leave, Dean— Please?"

The boy who called himself my _family_ nodded, moving towards the door. I caught the flash of hurt on the Slytherin's face as he reluctantly left. Part of me wondered how many of my classmates had family obeying Voldemort's commands? Wasn't it just the other day I was claiming we were as innocent as anyone else in this never-ending battle? And now, I was surrounded by _Gryffindors_ over my own House. I buried my head in the pillow closest to me.

I couldn't push past my hate for all of them, but I couldn't deny the guilt I felt at grouping them in with the Death Eaters. In another life, one of _my_ parents could be in Azkaban for being a Death Eater right now. Then again, I suppose I don't really have any parents now.

I glared at the Daily Prophet newspaper sitting on the nightstand. Since— since _that night_ , the Ministry had been spewing propaganda and trying to cover up what really happened to my friend. I felt the urge to wreck it— to destroy it all and tell everyone what _really_ happened.

The paper lit aflame suddenly, a bout of accidental magic coursing through me for the first time in years. I let it burn.


	32. Thirty-Two

_**THEO** _

**_MONTHS LATER_ **

_**~** _

**_WOMAN IN NEW YORK_** _FOUND DEAD; NO SUSPECTS_. 

Pushing away the newspaper, Theodosia looked up at the NYPD officer with a frown. "What's this got to do with me?"

"Your mother was just murdered," The man frowned down at her, leaning forward in his chair. "Strange gang symbols were found outside the home."

"She wasn't even my mother," The teenager proclaimed with a scoff. "And I'm not in a _gang_."

"You've been gone a long time, Miss Marx-Black." The officer responded, glancing around the empty room.

"I was at school."

"Yet, you were spotted in Queens less than a day after her demise."

"I want a lawyer." She decided, clanging the cuffs on her wrists together. "Until that, you can _eat shit."_

The man sat back, rubbing the spot between his eyebrows. Daniel Pondack was a year away from retirement and a hamburger away from a heart attack. He never had any kids, divorced his wife half a lifetime ago, and his older brother had died in some war years and years ago. Pondack had nobody and nobody to miss him. It made him a good cop— clear headed and reliable.

But, something about this kid sitting across from him made him falter in his usual interrogation methods. Her light brown hair fell around her face in a mess, what might've been black peeking through her roots. Her skin was scarred and pale— too damaged for a kid, Pondack thought. Even her clothes— dark jeans stained with mud and a tee-shirt that looked a size and a half too big —it all looked . . . _off_. Something about her was off. He saw it in her eyes most of all. Something was wrong with this girl.

He looked at the tattoo covering most of her forearm, a black snake wrapped around a skull. The same type of thing stained into the house where Elizabeth Marx's body was found. Theodosia shifted her arm, partly hiding the mark from view. Something was most definitely wrong with this girl; he just didn't know what.

Pondack pushed away the paper, folding his hands on the table. "Listen, kid—"

The door burst open suddenly, a boy clad in black appearing with a grin. Brown hair fell in his eyes, but he made no effort to push it away, gaze drawn to the girl he came to save. His work was quick and efficient, but anything but tidy. A lazy curse threw Officer Pondack backward into the wall, knocking him out instantly. 

The next one freed his partner from her shackles, his free hand holding her confiscated belongings.

The amber-haired girl looked up at the taller boy with a fierce look, ripping her duster and wand from his grasp. "Took you long enough."

Sliding into the long black duster, she grasped the boy's forearm, eyes squeezing shut. With a loud crack, they were gone.


End file.
